Homecoming
by save changes to normal
Summary: After the unexpected death of a family member, Riley finds himself with no choice but to face a past he's been struggling to leave behind. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: You may want to read "Hold Up" first. That's all I'm saying.

Disclaimer: Why would I write fanfiction if I owned the movie? Wouldn't I just like...write another movie?

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Ben couldn't believe the intense emotions that poured over him as the object of his search came into view. Riley sat with elbows on his knees, head down, an old backpack at his feet. With earphones in his ears, he seemed completely oblivious to the bustling terminal around him. Ben wasn't sure if he wanted to hug him or smack him. The guy looked so incredibly clueless. The note Ben had found on the kitchen table that morning burned a hole in his pocket. He was not impressed. He marched up to stand directly in front of the little nightmare, waiting impatiently as the younger man registered that someone was there. Blue eyes slowly raised to meet his own. They widened slightly. "Ben, what are you doing here?"

The thoughtless, downright innocent question was too much to handle. Jaw stiffening, Ben yanked Riley up by the arm, attracting several stares, and walked him over to stand next to the payphones for some semblance of privacy.

"Ow, Ben, what the heck?" Riley protested. A glare from Ben silenced him.

Ben's voice was low as he asked slowly, "What in the world are you thinking?"

"Same question for 200," Riley retorted, wrenching his arm from Ben's grasp with an indignant huff.

"I've just spent the last three hours looking for you. You didn't even leave your cell phone on!"

"I didn't want to talk to you."

The brazenly spoken answer made Ben freeze for a moment. "What?"

Riley sent a self-conscious look around the terminal. "Ben, I hate it when you do this."

"Do what?" Ben demanded.

"This," he insisted. "What's your problem? I left you a very polite note. I told you I needed to go out of town for a few days or so. Should have known you'd freak out and ask a million questions. Well, I don't particularly feel like answering them right now, and contrary to what you may think, I _am_ an adult, and if I want to do something on my own, you have no right to try to stop me. This has nothing to do with you. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back and sit with my bag before I get tossed out or arrested or tackled or whatever horrible things the airport police do to people for 'leaving baggage unattended.'" He moved to walk away, but Ben stepped in front of him, physically blocking his path.

"Riley, you don't just walk out of town without telling your family where you're going."

Ben watched Riley flinch the slightest bit at the word "family," but he quickly recovered. "I'm not walking," he said smartly. "I'm flying."

"Not funny. Something's going on with you, Riley. I want to know what it is. You don't take off like this."

Riley held up his hands. "I just have stuff I need to take care of, okay? Look, if this is about that presentation you needed for next week, it's done. I saved it on you computer. It's under..."

"Riley," Ben said firmly. The younger man wouldn't look at him. Ben reached out and lifted Riley's chin. Riley slapped his hand away, shooting him an offended look as he finally met his eyes. "What's wrong?" He held Riley's gaze, knowing his friend would be able to see every bit of concern and worry that he felt.

Riley glared back defiantly, and for a long moment, Ben was certain he wouldn't answer. But Riley must've read something in his eyes because suddenly his gaze faltered, and he looked down at the floor, sucking in a breath through his nose. "I just...have to go home for a few days," he told the floor reluctantly. "My uncle died."

Ben's eyebrows shot up, and for a minute, he had no idea what to say. He didn't even know Riley had an uncle. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked softly. It might've been a selfish question. But it did hurt that Riley hadn't told him. He was supposed to be the kid's best friend. And here he was hurting, dealing with a loss all on his own, and he didn't think to let Ben in on the situation.

Riley gave a quiet shrug, chewing his bottom lip. "I don't..." He gave a weary sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, okay? Look, can we not talk about this? Um, I have a plane to catch in a little bit, so...sorry you had to waste all that time looking for me. Next time I'll leave a better note. Have a good week, Ben. I'll e-mail you later or something."

Ben wasn't sure if Riley had just assumed he wouldn't care or didn't want to find out one way or the other. Either option cut him deep. But this wasn't about Ben. "You and your uncle, were you close?"

Riley grimaced, a spark of real grief flashing across his face. "Yeah. Can we not talk about that, either?"

Ben nodded, a sad, ironic smile touching his lips. Riley could whine for months about a splinter, cry bloody murder about a paper cut, but when he hurt, really_ hurt_, he held it in close. Wouldn't let anyone in far enough to see. Not even his best friend. And Ben had had enough. "You got it. We'll talk later, huh?"

Riley looked visibly relieved at being let off the hook so easily. "Sure." This word, Ben knew, also could've been translated, "Maybe sometime after you can fluently speak binary and I'm elected dictator of the world."

Ben clapped him on the shoulder. "Great." He pulled Riley's ticket out of the younger man's jacket pocket and looked it over. He slipped it back in and patted the pocket. "Don't lose that, now."

Riley nodded dutifully, obviously chalking the darn-near-offensively-condescending comment up to another one of Ben's overprotective moments, though he probably wouldn't have if he hadn't been thrilled with the idea that the man was actually going to let this one go. Of course that didn't mean he could hold off on one snarky comment. "Yes, Dad. Sure you don't want to pin my name to my jacket?" Or did that count as two snarky comments? Either way.

"Nah. I doubt anyone would believe that's your real name." Before Riley could fire a comeback, Ben pulled him into a brief hug. Pushing him back, he said. "Have a good flight. See you soon."

A little thrown by the sudden display of affection, Riley stammered a "Sure, Ben."

"Next time leave your cell phone on," he instructed as he turned to walk away. He couldn't resist throwing over his shoulder, "And don't talk to strangers."

"I just hope you remembered where you parked the car, old man."

NTNTNTNT

Riley sat in the extra-wide, well-padded seat. The usual joy of flying first class, in a window seat even, was lost on him as he sat quietly observing the other passengers. Across the aisle, a man in a pair of jeans and a name-brand t-shirt sat talking to his wife over the head of their six-year-old about their impending vacation. In front of him, a woman in a suit made casual conversation with a friend in the seat next to her about some convention or another. The air was abuzz with unspoken pre-flight jitters and destination-driven excitement. Riley was a little jealous. He liked to fly. He didn't particularly enjoy flying alone.

A sudden wave of loneliness surprised the heck out of him, and a small part of him wished he hadn't been so quick to chase Ben off. _Don't be stupid, _he told himself. What did he expect? He knew Ben would've waited with him if he'd asked. That was just Ben. But honestly, Ben had this way of making him spill his guts, and well, that'd be gross. It was probably better the older man had taken off early. What was he thinking? Of course it was better. It was exactly what he wanted. So why in the world was he feeling so...abandoned?

But that wouldn't make any sense. Probably nothing more than a side effect from the unexpected phone call he'd gotten the night before. His mom. Samuel was dead. She might as well have taken a sledge to his gut. He knew he was probably still reeling. He'd tried to convince himself that the idea of going home didn't terrify him. Hadn't worked so far, but there was always hope, right? On second thought, he was really, really glad Ben wasn't there. Not that he wouldn't welcome the guy's company. But with circumstances as they were, no way did he want his best friend getting a glimpse into the secret world of Riley Poole. But still...

He shook his head and cranked up the volume on his iPod, turning his head to stare out the window. He hoped he didn't end up sitting next to a talker. Normally, Riley made all kinds of interesting friends on flights. Like that rubber salesman from Toledo or the professional La-z-boy recliner tester he'd met on a trip to Nevada. But today he wasn't really in a talky mood. Any levity he had left in him after the sucker-punch phone call had been brutally ripped away with the luggage compartment fiasco. He made a mental note to grow about two feet before he ever attempted flying again. What was really embarassing was the six-foot-something gorgeous blonde who ended up coming to his rescue after maybe the eighth time his back pack had fallen on his head. He'd had to stand aside like an idiot as she stowed his bag. Woman made it look so easy. This _really_ wasn't his day. With any luck, though, whoever was going to occupy the seat next to his would have a blessedly ginormous book they needed to have read by the end of the flight. In any case, he tried to put out all the right don't-talk-to-me vibes. Earphonesplanted firmly in ears: check. Gaze averted: check. Uninterested look pasted on face: check.

He felt rather than saw someone sit next to him. Riley resisted the urge to turn and look at the stranger. Eye contact could be misinterpreted as an invitation to chat. He thought he heard the person say something, but he wasn't sure over his music. He decided it'd be safer to ignore it. Then the person nudged his shoulder. Annoyed, Riley shifted his eyes to glare at the stranger. And they nearly popped out of his head. He fumbled his earphones out of his ears as he stammered, "Ben?"

His friend merely returned his gaze and pointed innocently at the panel over their heads. "Seatbelt light's on."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. As usual, I hope you enjoy this new chapter!

Also, the song "Your Body is a Wonderland," by John Mayer is not mine. Obiously, it's...John Mayer's. And Captain Jack Sparrow belongs to whoever owns the _Pirates of the Caribbean _movies. Which also is unfortunately not me.

NTNTNTNTNT

Riley could feel his mouth hanging open. He snapped it shut with an audible click and had to take a deep breath before asking, "What are you doing here?"

Ben shrugged, pulling the safety pamphlet from the back of the seat in front of him and flipping through it. "Did you know your cushion can actually be used as a floatation device in case the plane goes down over the ocean?"

Riley shook his head, mouth floundering for a moment. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Ben, everyone knows that. What are you doing?"

Once again, the older man ignored the question, eyes still scanning the laminated paper. "It's actually quite fascinating if you think about it. Especially considering..."

"Ben, listen to me. You can't be here."

Brown eyes rolled up to meet blue. "Why's that?"

"Because...you...I..." Riley pressed his lips together and gave a grunt of frustration loud enough to turn heads. Face reddening, he slumped lower in the seat and spoke in measured tones, "Ben, I don't know what you're doing, but since that's pretty much been a recurring theme, I'm just not going to worry about it. But I mean, you can't just get on a plane. You don't even have a toothbrush or clothes or anything!"

Ben tapped his nose with his index finger. "See I knew that fifty million would come in handy eventually."

Riley rolled his eyes. Doi. They were rich. There was nothing Ben needed that he couldn't buy when they got there. Heck there was nothing Ben needed that he couldn't buy period. Riley should've known there'd be a downside to unimaginable riches. There had to be some other loophole, though. "But what about Abi?" he said suddenly. "She's going to freak out, and I think we need to think about her feelings now, and you need to get off this plane."

"Well, I talked with Abigail, who by the way wants to strangle you...or hug you. It was hard to tell which. She was speaking very fast. But she didn't have a problem with me coming with you." Actually, upon hearing about Riley's situation, the woman's anger had melted away, and she was all sympathy for the young man she'd never admit to viewing as a younger brother. Her accent had thickened with her voice as she'd said before he could even ask, "Go, Ben. Take care of him."

"She didn't?" Riley sounded like he was having a hard time believing it.

"She didn't," Ben confirmed. "And furthermore," he went on, "I can't get off this plane."

"Why not?"

"Because, Riley, we're moving."

Riley looked out the window. Sure enough. He couldn't believe it. The guy was seriously on the plane. Who does stuff like that? _It was all a trap_, he realized. All that stuff with the ticket. Ben just wanted to see his ticket so he could get one just like it, and it was all part of some diabolical plot to...what? Go to his uncle's funeral? Riley was really having a hard time connecting the dots. All he knew was that he really didn't want his friend there. He crossed his arms. "We haven't left the ground. You've got time."

"If I knew better, I'd say you didn't want me here," the man said, sounding deceptively uninterested.

Unmoved, Riley retorted, "So know better."

"Riley..."

"_What_ are you doing here, Ben?" Riley asked again. This time it was more of a demand.

A shrug. A short pause. "Being here."

Riley blinked. He looked at Ben and sighed. "Why?"

"Because," Ben said simply, "you don't want to go alone."

Riley bit his lip, swallowing with the weird feeling of gravity pressing down on his chest as the plane took off. No going back now. How did Ben do that? How did he make everything sound so logical even when it was so utterly insane? _I'm going to find the lost treasure of the Knights Templar_. Sure, Ben. Right. Sounds good_. I'm going to steal the Declaration of Independence_. Mmhm. Okay. Good times. _I'm going to fly across the country to go to the funeral of a guy I didn't even know so my friend won't be there alone_. Riley didn't even know how to respond to that one.

"I'm...mad at you," he finally concluded lamely.

The older man didn't look too concerned. He shot Riley a disbelieving look before waving the thought away. "You'll get over it."

Riley could only watch as his best friend settled himself more comfortably in his seat, stopping a flight attendant to purchase a pair of headphones for the in-flight movie. Riley turned to look out the window, pretending to sulk, watching the tiny landmarks go by so far below. He put his earphones back in. He wasn't mad. Not really. Under any other circumstances, he would've been secretly thrilled to death that Ben had laid aside his own priorities and to-do lists to spend time with him. But this wasn't a ball game or a trip to the mall or a movie. This was his personal life. This was his family. So no, Riley wasn't mad. He was scared out of his mind.

NTNTNTNTNT

A few hours later, Riley was awakened from a doze as the plane touched down. His ears popped and he shook his head. He regretted the movement immediately and winced at the pressure in his skull. Plane rides almost always gave him headaches. He blinked bleary eyes and looked over to see Ben sitting next to him, head back, mouth open, by all accounts dead to the world. As the plane came to a full and complete stop and the other passengers began standing and retrieving their belongings, Ben still didn't stir. _Great._

Riley stood and stepped over his friend, out into the aisle. He reached up and grabbed the shoulder strap to his bag, giving it a tug. It didn't budge. He figured the other strap had to be caught on something, but he couldn't really check because they made the holds too stinking high. So he did the only thing he could do. He pulled harder. Nothing happened. He glanced around smiling at the few other passengers left as if to say, "I totally know what I'm doing." Some of them smiled back patiently. Some of them did not.

Turning back to his task, desperately wanting to get his bag and himself off the plane and out of the sights of all these people he'd probably never see again, he gave one final, powerful pull. There was a conspicuously loud tearing sound and the bag suddenly came free. Ah, victory. Of course, victory seldom comes without a price. The bag had torn down the seam, and as the bag came tumbling out of the hold, his stuff came tumbling out of the bag. To make matters worse, the sudden lack of resistence threw him off balance enough to send him crashing into the man beside him, landing the man in the seat across the aisle, with Riley on top of him. And even that wouldn't have been so bad...if the man wasn't 6'8" with a crew cut and a very short fuse. And even_ that _wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't knocked his already-aching head back into Crew Cut's face, busting the man's sizeable nose.

So there he was, sitting on the lap of a not-so-jolly, red-nosed, giant man. Strangely enough, what he'd be getting for Christmas was not high on his list of priorities. With a rather frightening roar, the man shoved him off, sending him sprawling and trying to get his feet under himself without much luck. Just before his face could hit the floor, he was caught and hefted up to his feet by a six-foot-nothing, wide-awake treasure protector with blessedly quick reflexes. Said treasure protector stood between Riley and Crew Cut, facing the latter with his hands up, trying to talk the man down. "Sir, you need to calm down. It was obviously an accident. Let's just cool off." There was a moment of stillness as the large man seemed to calm. He looked at Ben. He looked at Riley. Ben nodded, offering a placating smile. "There you go." Before he could get another word out, the giant's face scrunched back up, and before Ben could blink, a meaty fist slammed right into his cheekbone.

Ben's head snapped back. A lady screamed. There was the rush of flight attendants as several men hustled to restrain the man. As Ben's vision cleared, he realized he was in a seat--though he couldn't remember sitting down--staring into the face of Riley Poole. Except there seemed to be two of him. Probably not a good sign. "Well, Ben," both Rileys said blithely, "You showed him."

Ben shook his head and winced, blinking until the two images he saw of his friend fused into one. He could barely handle the one Riley Poole. He was relatively certain two would be the death of him. He reached up, flinching as he touched the tender flesh beneathe his eye, already feeling it begin to swell. He sighed in exasperation. "I really can't take you anywhere, can I?"

NTNTNTNTNT

"Ben, would you please hold still?" Riley complained as he tried to press the borrowed ice pack to his friend's spectacular black eye.

Ben waved him off. "You know, one would tend to think a guy who gets himself injured as often as you would have a better bedside manner." They were sitting on a bench outside an airport restaurant, maybe an hour after the incident. It had taken that long to get everything straight with security, and neither man was feeling particularly chipper about the situation.

"Well, how many times have I told you to let me fight my own battles?"

Ben looked at him. "None."

"Of course 'none.' Otherwise, I'd end up like you. You look like a pirate." Ben gave him a funny look, momentarily lowering his defenses. Riley seized the opportunity to finally land the ice pack to Ben's face.

The older man flinched back from the offending object. "Argh! Riley!"

"See, that was good. Now say, 'It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, if you please.'"

With a glare, Ben snatched the ice pack from his friend's grasp, pressing it gently to his eye. "I could've just let the guy hit you."

"No, Ben, you never ever can." The words were covered with a sort of fond exasperation. He was right about that, though, Ben knew. He never could stand by and let the kid get hurt. It was really annoying sometimes. Ben glanced at his friend. The younger man did that goofy wincing/grinning thing he did when he wasn't sure if he felt more guilty than entertained or more entertained than guilty. "I am sorry you got hit." Ah. More guilty.

"It wasn't your fault."

Riley scrunched his forehead. "Yeah it was."

Ben was about to point out the fact that he could've stayed home if he wanted, but he thought better of it. Riley seemed to finally be getting over the bad mood Ben's unexpected presence seemed to put him, and Ben didn't want to bring it back. "Forget about it. Let's just get out of here, huh?"

"Fine with me."

After a quick detour to pick up a roll of duct tape to mend Riley's injured bag, the two took a shuttle to the nearest car rental place. The best they had that day was a 2005 Kia Optima. A perfectly good car, but not exactly up to par with Riley's standards. Ben called him a car snob. He sulked for a few minutes, but in a moment of brilliance dubbed the thing "Optima Prime," and was both happy and content. Then Riley wanted to drive, but Ben decided he wanted to drive, sparking a heated debate.

"Ben, you don't even know where we're going. I'm driving."

"Relax, Riley. I want to arrive in one piece, and no offense, but you drive like you just stole something."

"You of all people should appreciate that, Mister 'What they knew was right.'"

Ben ignored that. "Not to mention, you'll plug in your iPod, and I don't especially feel like hearing 'Your Body is Like Gelderland,' or whatever the song is."

"'Your Body is a Wonderland,' Ben," Riley corrected, frustrated. Then he looked up and saw the car rental guy stop and stare at them strangely, head tilted to one side. Face burning with embarassment, Riley ducked his head and got in the car. "Drive. Just...drive."

NTNTNTNTNT

"So where are we staying tonight? Do you need to call ahead or anything?" Ben asked his navigator a few hours later, assuming Riley would probably have been planning to stay with his mom.

His navigator, who'd given up on pouting hours back, shrugged. "There's a motel not far from the funeral home."

Ben furrowed his brow, but didn't say anything. They'd been talking and joking and laughing like it was any other road trip, but it seemed the closer they got to their destination, the more reserved and quiet Riley became. Another twenty minutes saw the motel coming into view. Ben pulled in. It was late. There was one room available, and the friends could've cared less.

The room was smallish, containing two double beds and a TV set. A far cry from the lavish five-star rooms they'd gotten used to during the past year. Riley immediately claimed the bed farthest from the door with his duffel, collapsing next to it. "So...tired," he announced.

"What time is the funeral tomorrow?" Ben asked softly.

"Ten a.m."

"Riley." The serious note in Ben's voice made the younger man freeze.

"Yeah?"

"You going to be all right tomorrow?"

After a short pause, Riley slowly rolled over so his best friend could see his face. "I'm not mad at you anymore for coming," he said carefully. He didn't wait for an answer before levering himself up off the bed and grabbing his bag, retreating into the bathroom to get ready for bed. "'Night, Ben."

"Goodnight," Ben responded automatically as the bathroom door closed. He sat down on his bed, rolling Riley's words around in his head. It wasn't really an answer. But then again, he realized, it kind of was.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: A little slow on the update, huh? Ah, well. That's life, right?

NTNTNTNT

Ben sat next to his all but shaking friend on the pew as the service started. He could only imagine what must be going through the kid's head. Riley hadn't said but two words to him that morning. When Ben had awakened, he'd found Riley's bed empty, the sheets twisted, pillows strewn about. Heart pounding, nightmare images flashing through his mind, Ben had gone for the door. He hadn't had to go far. Riley had been sitting curled up just outside the door, leaning with his back against the dirty beige siding of the motel. As soon as the door opened, Ben caught Riley scrubbing quickly at his eyes before the younger man stood, offered Ben a "Good morning," and went in to take a shower without waiting for Ben to respond.

Ben wasn't blind. It would've been impossible to miss the haunted, red-rimmed eyes. His friend was hurting. Badly. He just wished the kid would give him a clue how to help. Because at the moment he was feeling more than a little helpless. And more than a little useless.

The funeral service was pretty typical. At least outwardly. But Ben couldn't help but make the observation that there seemed to be a distinct lack of tears among the family members. Ben hadn't met any of Riley's family. Riley never talked about them. Beyond the fact that the younger man's brother had run out on him when he was only eleven, there wasn't much he knew about the Poole clan. The two had arrived only just in time to slip in the back pew as the music began playing. They hadn't had the opportunity to speak with anyone. If the way Riley was nearly vibrating in the seat next to him and shooting nervous, uncertain glances at the people in the front row, Ben surmised their timely arrival had been more intentional than not. But as the service went on, listening to the sweet but stoic words of different family members, he was unable to keep from comparing their dry eyes with the bowed head and too-bright eyes of his friend.

The funeral was closed-casket, which made Ben wonder as he realized he didn't even know how old the man was or how he'd died. As the church service ended and its attendees prepared to go to the cemetery, Riley stood. He started to move toward the aisle, but froze as his eyes landed on a slim, dark-haired woman. She was coming up the aisle. Her eyes were a startling blue that Ben would've recognized anywhere, and he knew this woman had to be Riley's mother. But unlike Riley's eyes, these eyes were dull. Hard. Brittle, even. Lacking that spark of excited energy he was used to seeing in the eyes of his friend.

Ben watched as her eyes landed on her son. And then, with shocking cruelty, the eyes darted away. She continued walking, passing the pair without without stopping, without looking back, giving no indication that she even knew the kid. Ben could only stand there, shocked, shaking his head. What kind of family was this? He tried to imagine either of his parents acting so cold. He couldn't. Even when things had been rough between his dad and him, he knew the man would never _ever_ refuse to acknowledge him like that. Maybe he was wrong, though. Maybe that wasn't really Riley's mother. Lots of people had dark hair and blue eyes. That could've been anybody.

He looked back at Riley, and that hope was crushed by the look on his face. Kid was standing there, looking for all the world like he was about to come unglued. His head was ducked low, and he was taking deep, measured breaths through his nose. Without a clue what he was supposed to do, Ben reached out and grasped the back of his friend's neck, squeezing gently. He didn't have anything to say to make this better, but he could do what he promised. He'd meant what he'd said earlier, when Riley had asked him what he was doing there. The answer was still just as simple as it was then. _Being here. _

Riley didn't move for a moment as he seemed to almost gather up all his strength. Then he sucked in his breath, straightened his shoulders, and almost reluctantly shrugged off Ben's hand. He glanced at his friend with a grateful expression before asking, like he hadn't a care in the world, "You ready to go?"

Ben nodded. "Sure."

"Sweet." Riley fell into step beside him, walking close. "There's this really awesome Chinese place in town, if you want to go after the graveside service. Best crab rangoon west of the Atlantic. Or...east of the Pacific. Whichever." He looked puzzled.

"Ah, man finally discovers the trouble with living on a world that is round."

"Yeah..." Riley said thoughtfully. "Hey Ben, if we're on a sphere sitting in space, how do we know which way is up?" he asked curiously. "Because couldn't every way technically be considered 'up,' since there's probably no top or bottom to the universe?"

Ben glanced at him with a half-grin, watching the younger man tug absently at his tie as they walked toward their car. "Come again?"

"I mean, really, we just base our directional stuff on the magnetic fields and stuff and the position of the sun, right? But if we erased all that, and it was just our planet sitting in space, would there really be an up and a down? Or an east and a west?" He looked at his friend, as if actually expecting him to have an answer.

"I don't know, Riley," Ben admitted with a small smile.

"Oh. Sorry. Um...what year did Ben Franklin invent bifocals?"

That answer Ben knew. "1784," he said as they slid into their seats. "Why?"

"Just wanted to make you feel better."

"Ah. Thanks."

"No problem. So do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Want to get Chinese later," Riley said, sounding almost exasperated. "Keep up, Ben."

"You know, I'm pretty sure having a conversation with you is like being on a sphere out in the middle of space. You go around in circles, and I can never figure out which way is up."

Riley looked at him for a minute. "Wait, what?"

Ben bit his lip. "I'm really not sure what I just said. Chinese sounds good."

"Great."

"Yep." Ben was quiet for a minute. "So tell me about your uncle. He sounded like an interesting man." He made his tone conversational, like it didn't really matter to him one way or the other. But if there was one thing he needed to do it was get Riley talking about his family. But with Riley, there really was no easy way to do that.

His friend glanced at him as though he suspected what Ben was trying to do, but surprisingly enough, he answered anyway. "He was cool. Practically raised me, really. He let me stay with him a lot when I was younger. After I moved away he even made a point of sending me letters every week."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Riley smiled softly. "Always letters. Never e-mails. Handwritten, not typed. And it wasn't because he didn't get computers or anything like that, 'cause he did. He just...he wanted me to feel like..." he trailed off.

"Like he cared. Like you weren't just an afterthought," Ben finished for him.

Riley nodded. "Yeah. You would've liked him. Man was a genius. And he was really wise, you know? Like crazy wise. He always had the best advice. Like he knew everything."

"Yeah." It reminded Ben of his grandfather.

"That's kind of why this was all...such a shock to the system. Everything was fine. I got his letter last week just the same as every other week. There wasn't anything about it that was...off."

"What happened to him?"

Riley gave a painful shrug. "I don't know. Mom didn't say."

Ben's mouth thinned into a grim line as he remembered the woman who'd been so calloused toward her son. "Want me to ask her?"

Riley's eyebrows raised. "What? No. No, I'll do it. She's...I mean I saw her at the funeral home, I just...I would've asked then, but she was...it didn't really feel like the right time, you know? She's still grieving, I think. I mean, she is. She's gotta be. He was her uncle."

"Her uncle? So he was..."

"My great uncle. Yeah."

Ben couldn't stand it anymore. "Riley, your mom. What..."

"She's sick, Ben. Sometimes she just doesn't know what's going on real well. She's just...she's sick." He was nodding as he spoke, like he was trying to convince himself at least as much as he was trying to convince Ben.

Ben agreed silently. The woman was sick. He just didn't know if he believed she was physically ill.

NTNTNTNT

After the graveside service had ended, Ben nudged Riley with his shoulder. "Hey," he said softly. "You okay?"

The younger man nodded. Sure. Fine and dandy. He was pretty sure he'd given up wishing Ben had stayed home. Yeah, it was hard keeping everything bottled up in front of the man, but he'd be lying if he said he'd have been better off without him there. Ben was one of the strongest people Riley had ever known, and the man had this...presence that had the power to make him feel like no matter what, Ben would have his back. "Yeah, I'm good. Just hang on a sec, okay? I'll be right back."

"Sure."

Riley stepped away and pointed himself toward the dark-haired woman several yards away. She had spotted him coming and now stood waiting for him. She wore a black dress that was really very pretty, and her silky hair fell in waves around her shoulders. She would've been gorgeous if it weren't for the premature wrinkles that pulled at her face or the dark bags under her bloodshot eyes. When he reached her, they both stood quietly for a moment. Finally Riley said, "Mom?"

"I'm surprised you came." Her voice was like frozen asphalt.

Riley shook his head. "Why?"

"Last I heard, you were too good for me."

He looked away. "I offered you, money, Mom, but you've got to..." He winced as she suddenly slapped his cheek. It didn't really hurt. She wasn't strong enough for it to really hurt. A tremor ran through her, and her eyes were suddenly bright with one of the two emotions he'd seen her display in a very long time. Surprisingly, it wasn't the anger he expected to see. It was fear.

"You can't think you're better than me. You can't," she said desperately. Then she held her hand to her mouth as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "Just get out of here, Rick. Please, get out of here." She shook her head. "Riley."

Riley sighed. Her mind, messed up as it was, always had a problem remembering he was Riley. Not Rick. No matter how many years Rick had been gone or the half-decade between their ages, she'd still call him by the name of his absent older brother. That stung every time. He was about to ask his question when Ben was suddenly there. "There a problem?" he asked tensely.

"No," Riley said immediately. "No problem. I'm fine, Ben."

His mom looked Ben up and down. "This your bodyguard?"

"This is my friend, Ben. Ben, this is Claire. Mom, I just need you to tell me what happened to Uncle Samuel. Please. Please, I need to know."

"I told you what happened to Samuel."

"No, Mom, you didn't."

"He was in a hunting accident."

This wasn't making any sense. "That's impossible. He didn't hunt."

"Well, that's what happened!" she yelled defensively. Without waiting for him to reply, she turned and walked quickly away.

"Mom? Mom!" he called. She didn't slow, didn't turn around. Angry, hurt, frustrated, Riley turned and kicked a tombstone, scuffing his stupid, expensive, shiny black shoes. This was so stupid. Why had he come? Why was everything here so completely messed up? Stinging tears burned his eyes. He knew why he'd come. Uncle Samuel. The one man he'd trusted growing up. The one man who'd supported him no matter what. The one man who'd sent him letters every week because he cared and wanted to know what was going on in Riley's life. But there wouldn't be any more letters. That thought more than any of the others threatened to send the tears sliding down his face, but somehow, probably just due to the amount of practice he'd had, he clamped down on them. He leaned wearily against the stone monument. "This is so stupid," he whispered. "Ben, I want to go home. Let's go home, huh?"

"Yeah," his friend said softly. "Let's go."

As they made their way back to the car, a tall man with broad shoulders and graying hair stepped in front of them. "Riley," the man said warmly. "It's been a long time. It's good to see you."

Riley nodded warily. "Uncle Deacon." His mom's brother. A man Riley had never really had the opportunity to trust.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Ben answered for him. "Home. We're going home."

"Please, Riley, I wanted to talk to you before you left. There are things I need to tell you. Things you never knew about Samuel."

"What?" Deacon had never taken an interest in him before. "What are you talking about?"

"I know the two of you were close, but there are things he never told you about. Just come have lunch with me. Bring your friend. I'll tell you everything."

Feeling lost, Riley looked up at Ben. "Whatever you want to do," the man said.

Riley shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "What's for lunch?"

His uncle smiled. "Whatever you want. Come on."

They followed the man to the parking lot. "Riley? What's this about?" Ben asked quietly.

"Ben, I swear you know as much as I do."

"I'm not really liking this," his friend said honestly. "Do you trust that guy?"

"I don't know. This whole thing feels wrong. Ben?"

"What?"

"My family's kind of weird."

Before Ben could answer, a white van screeched to a halt in front of them. Two men wearing ski masks jumped out. One of them grabbed Riley before he could blink and started pulling him toward the van. Riley struggled, but he was no match for his captor. "Ben!"

Ben was already trying to go through the other masked man to get to his friend, but the man pulled a gun. "Get your hands off him!" he yelled.

"Take it easy. We're here to help," the man said urgently. "Do you care about him?"

"What?" Ben demanded.

"Do you care about him?"

"Yes."

"Get in the van."

Ben watched as his friend was shoved into the back of the van. He looked back at the man with the gun.

"With or without you, man, we have to go."

Without another thought, Ben went. As he stepped up into the van, the man stepped in after him, sliding the door shut behind them. The van took off, leaving the cemetery, the grave, and Deacon Parks behind. Ben sat next to Riley. Kid looked pretty shaken up. "You hurt?"

"No," came the immediate response. "So...what are we in for this time?" he asked in a brave attempt at levity.

"Believe it or not," said the masked man who'd spoken with Ben, "this is all actually for your protection, kid."

"My protection?" Riley asked. He threw a disbelieving look at Ben, then focused back on the man. "Yeah, hate to play the pessimist, but it seems to me the only thing I need protection from is you."

"Riley," Ben warned.

But the man didn't look angry. Instead he smiled a real, genuine smile. "Man, I missed you, kid." He pulled off his mask. The face. The eyes.

Riley shrank back against the wall of the van, eyes going impossibly wide. They misted a bit and he blinked quickly, like he was trying to get them to focus. His open mouth spit out one scared, disbelieving, hopeful word. "R-Rick?"

NTNTNTNTNT

A/N: Hey. This chapter was kind of...a whole bunch more sad than what I usually write for this category. Sorry if it's not your cup o' tea! But it should brighten up a bit by next chapter. Here's hoping.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Yes. Me. Late. Sorry. Don't throw things, 'kay? I...um...love you guys? (ducks) I'd give excuses, but, heck, _I _don't even feel like hearing myself whine. In any case, hope you enjoy this new chapter!

Also, happy birthmonth to sarahofearth! (Streamers, confetti, various noisemakers) Yay!

NTNTNTNTNTNT

Riley's thoughts were racing as he stared up into the eyes of his older brother. Rick was really there. He was really real and breathing and standing right in front of him! Ever since his brother had abandoned him without so much as a word when Riley was only eleven years old, the youngest Poole had dreamed of this moment. When Rick would come back, and he'd have some explanation, something to make it all make sense. Except there was also a part of him that was more scared than he could even admit that his big brother would tell him what he'd silently feared all along. _It's your fault. _He winced. _Why did you leave, Rick? _He couldn't ask the question. So instead he cleared his throat, trying to rid it of the lump that had settled there without his consent and blinked misty eyes. He was going for casual when he asked, "So how you been?"

That was all he could get out before his brother grabbed him up and hugged him tight. The man let out a slightly hysterical laugh that could've almost been a sob. "Good, kid. I've been okay. You?"

"Good," Riley nodded, trying to ignore the emotions pouring over him. He had to clear his throat again. "So...this is Ben. He's my friend."

Rick looked over Riley's shoulder to see the man and tossed him a wave. "We met briefly."

Ben's arms were crossed, and he was staring at Rick with an expression that didn't exactly scream friendliness. "Yeah. You want to tell us what's going on? Because as far as I know, family reunions don't usually start with a member of said family being pulled off the street at gunpoint."

Riley pulled away from his brother, shooting Ben a look. "Ben, take it easy. This is my brother."

"I'm very aware of that, Riley. I'm also very aware of the fact that he's been out of the picture for over a decade, and I have no idea what we're dealing with. _Gunpoint, _Riley." He looked at Rick. "Where are we going, and why are we going there?"

Rick held up his hands. "Look, you've got every right to be upset. But like I said, I had to do this to keep Riley safe."

"And the fact that your little brother just became a millionaire has nothing to do with why you've suddenly shown up out of the blue?" Ben asked, the insinuation clear. "Seems a little convenient."

"Ben, stop," Riley protested, shocked.

"Look, you've got me all wrong..."

"I want you to take us back to the motel, now. If you've got something to say, you can say it without the guns and the goons. I'm not buying this crap."

"Ben..."

There was a loud pop and squeal as the van suddenly swerved to the left, throwing all its passengers against the door. "What's going on?" Rick shouted to the driver.

"Tire blew out! Bet it's not an accident! I think someone just shot at us!"

Ben grabbed Riley as the van screeched to a halt. "Get ready to run!"

"No! What about Rick!"

"For all we know we should be running _from _Rick!"

"I don't believe that, Ben!"

Rick grabbed Riley from the other side, speaking urgently to Ben. "You don't want to run from me, man. I'm on your side!"

Before Ben could reply, the door to the van burst open, and three men with high-power rifles stood with weapons trained on them. A glance toward the driver saw him facing the same situation. "Don't move," one of the men said. He pointed to Riley. "You. Come with us."

"You just said not to move."

"Now."

Ben tightened his grip on Riley's arm. "Over my dead body."

A rifle cocked. Riley flinched. He turned to Ben. "Never say that again." With that, he shook off Ben's hand and Rick's and went to stand next to the men. "I guess I should probably be used to this by now, right?"

"Riley," Rick said, voice tight with anger and helplessness. "I'm going to come get you. Don't listen to anything he tells you."

Eyebrows knit, Riley shrugged, downplaying the fear and confusion that nearly had him in a strangle hold. He forced a smile. "Since when have I ever listened to anybody?" With that, the door slid shut.

NTNTNTNTNT

Ben turned and glared at the man next to him. "You start talking. Right now."

Rick was staring at the door to the van. He shook his head in frustration and looked at Ben. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me what the heck is going on! I don't know if you noticed, but my best friend just got snatched at gunpoint _again! _Who were those men, and where are they taking him? And you better tell me the truth, man, because I swear..."

"Look," Rick interrupted. "I get that you're worried about him. I really appreciate you being worried for him. But this really doesn't have anything to do with you. I think it would be best for everyone if you get on your plane today and go home. I'm going to..."

"_What?_" Ben couldn't believe his ears. "What did you just say? I think you must be confused. I don't walk out on that kid. That was you. Remember?"

He thought he caught a brief flicker of pain flash across the man's eyes. Good. That was supposed to sting. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then apparently neither does Riley. Because he's still blaming himself for your screw ups."

"Hey, man, I really don't expect you to understand, but I did what I did because I had to. I had no choice. And I happened to notice that Riley's not the one who's so angry. He knows I wouldn't do anything to hurt him. So I fail to see why you think you have the right to judge me. You don't even know me."

"Riley doesn't know how to be mad at you. He's too hurt to be mad at you. I don't have that problem. And I'm not talking about this anymore. I could care less about you or your problems. But it looks like whatever you just dragged my friend into could wind up getting him killed, and I am not going to wait around and let that happen, and I'm definitely not getting on a plane and leaving him in your oh-so-capable hands." There was a hard edge to his words. He was angry, upset, and scared. And this guy who'd caused his best friend so much pain had shown up out of the blue to cause trouble again. And Ben needed to know why. "Now I want you to tell me what's going on. Where are they taking him, and why?"

Instead of answering, Rick looked up toward the driver. "Trey, are they gone?"

"Just drove off," the man answered.

"Help me change the tire," Rick said. Ben gave him a look. "Hey, I'll tell you everything you need to know. But we have to get this van up and running. You want to help? Start now."

"Fine," Ben answered. "Lead the way."

NTNTNTNTNNT

The black Oldsmobile drove up a long driveway. Riley had basically given up trying to get information from his captors, but once it had become apparent they weren't going to kill and/or maim him he'd settled for annoying them instead. He'd moved on from describing in detail the history of computer technology from 1941 to present day (after all, he figured, it always annoyed the heck out of him when Ben prattled on about history this and legend that) and had since found his niche singing "Eye of the Tiger" (complete with intro). Just loud enough to make the guy next to him's eye twitch.

"'And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night, and he's watching us all with the eye...'"

"We're here," the man next to him said as the car pulled to a stop. He couldn't have sounded more relieved. "Come this way, please."

Riley followed them willingly enough, letting his mouth keep humming along while his brain tried to process every bit of scenery. He knew exactly where they were, knew every turn they'd taken on the road, every landmark. That's the thing with being creatively obnoxious. If your captors are busy trying to ignore you because they think you're a moron, they'll probably underestimate your directional skills and the fact that you are indeed paying very close attention. Riley smiled to himself. _Now all I have to do is wait for them to leave me alone long enough to call Ben. _The reassuring weight of the very _un_confiscated cell phone in his pocket kept the fear in his gut from making its way all the way up to his brain. _I'll be fine, _he told himself. _Ben and Rick'll come get me. Rick'll tell me he's some sort of secret agent and that's why he had to leave and couldn't call or write or anything. All the bad guys will get arrested. All the wrongs will be righted. We'll all eat Chinese. _Right. That was the plan.

They walked up the sidewalk of a plain-looking two-story house in a neighborhood that looked every bit of normal. As they entered, Riley stopped short. Deacon was standing there in the foyer, waiting for him. "Riley," he said anxiously. "Are you all right?"

Riley could only stare. Deacon? How...Why...? He shook his head and blinked. "Nope."

"Are you hurt?"

Again with the blinking and the head shaking. "Nope."

"Wh..." The man looked a little nonplussed. He obviously didn't know how to respond.

"My brother just pulled me away from my uncle at gunpoint. Then my uncle pulled me away from my brother at gunpoint. Tug of war sucks. What's going on?"

"Riley, there are some things I need to tell you. Things about Samuel. Things about your brother."

"I don't trust you," Riley said blankly.

The man's voice was slightly incredulous as he asked, "You trust Rick?"

"He's my brother."

"I'm your uncle. And to be honest, we both know your brother is every bit a stranger to you as I am. What makes his word so much more trustworthy than mine?"

The question wasn't spoken harshly, but it still made Riley wince. It had been fifteen years. But it was Rick. Rick was a good guy. He just...had to leave...for fifteen years. "He...hugged me," Riley finally answered.

Deacon's eyebrows rose, and the man suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Do you want me to hug you?"

"No. That's...okay."

"Okay." He quickly went on, "Riley, I'm going to tell you some things that I never wanted you to have to bear. They're going to be hard for you to hear. But I need you to listen to me. I didn't think Rick would come back, but now that he has, I can't hide you from this any longer. It would be too dangerous for you. Sit down. Please." He motioned toward the living room.

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice, Riley," the man said tiredly. "I'm not going to bring back the men with the guns if that's what you're asking."

"Why such an interest in me all the sudden? You were never around when it counted."

"I was always around when it counted. That's why you're standing here right now."

Riley studied him for a moment, trying to decode the cryptic statement. He was way too confused. "Okay, fine," he said at last. "But I still don't trust you."

"Young man, in this family, that's a wise choice. Come on." Deacon led him into the room and lowered himself into a chair. Riley took the couch opposite.

"This is your house?" Riley asked, looking around. He'd always assumed Deacon was more wealthy than that.

"One of them." Aha. Assumption: correct. "Can I get you something to drink at all?"

"No. Thanks. Look, this is a nice little reunion. Really. So I'll listen. But just say what you need to say and make it quick, okay? I've got people waiting for me." Ben would be freaking out by now. The thought made him want to smile. Ben was a worrier. But it was always kind of nice when he was the object of that worry. It made him feel...cared about or something. He wondered if Rick was a worrier. He could remember times when Rick got all overprotective-big-brother like Ben did. In those last couple of months after the beating, though, Rick had always seemed worried about something. But that was when it was like Riley had ceased to matter...

"I really don't know how to say this. But I've always been a man to say it like it is," Deacon began. "Riley, your Uncle Samuel was not the man you thought he was."

"That's not true," Riley immediately objected. "He was..."

"Just let me say this, son. I know you loved Samuel. I think he actually loved you, too. But he was into some things that have been tearing our family apart since before you were born."

"Not him," Riley insisted, fingers digging into the couch cushions.

Deacon went on as though he hadn't heard. "Samuel was a criminal. He was the leader of several drug rings. He killed several people. I'm sorry. There's just no way to break this to you gently."

Riley was already on his feet, fists clenched. "You...I don't even...you're wrong, Uncle Deacon. I don't know where you got your information. I don't even really care. But I'm not going to sit here and listen to this."

"Rick worked for him. After what happened when he was sixteen, when that boy was still so fragile and confused, Samuel took him in. Recruited him, really."

Riley turned to leave, but Deacon stood and grabbed his arm. "You said I could leave!" Riley objected.

"Samuel taught Rick too well. He knew your brother would eventually want control of his business. So he essentially collected enough evidence on Rick to blackmail him. He hid the evidence somewhere only he knew. And as long as he knew the location of that evidence, Rick couldn't have him killed."

"That's not true!"

"Maybe Samuel died in a hunting accident. Maybe he didn't. But now there's only one person who knows where that evidence is hidden. You, Riley."

Riley tugged on his arm, but his uncle held fast. He didn't want to hear anymore. He felt like a traitor for listening. It couldn't be true. None of it. It couldn't possibly be true. Uncle Samuel was a good man. He'd loved him. Rick was a good man, too. And even if Rick didn't love him, Rick had to still be a good guy. He needed his big brother to be a good guy. "I don't know anything! Enough! Let go!"

Deacon didn't. He spoke all the more urgently. "The letters, Riley. The location of the evidence is in the letters. And Rick knows that."

NTNTNTNT

As soon as they replaced the tire, Ben stood up and dusted himself off. Rick had let him know his suspicions that Deacon was behind the abduction, and had promised to tell him everything as soon as they got out on the road. The whole situation left a bad taste in Ben's mouth. Riley was in trouble. That much he knew. But he didn't know why. What was worse, he was sure Riley didn't even know why. _You were right about one thing, kid. Your family is kind of weird. _He spoke to Rick without turning around, "So can I assume you at least know where we're going?" The only answer was something hard crashing into the back of his skull. White hot pain shot through his head. He only had enough time to be scared and to call himself an idiot before everything went black.

Rick stood over the prone form, tire iron hanging from his hand. "I'm sorry, man. This is family business."

NTNTNTNTNTNT

A/N: Dun-Dun-Dun! If you liked this (or didn't), review, yeah? I'll really try my hardest to update quicker! Reviews inspire me:) Blessings!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Quicker update, yeah?

Also, hooray to WorldofWarCraftFanatic16 who just posted a first chapter to what is definitely a super awesome new NT story! Thanks much for not thinking I'm a jerk for pestering you!

NTNTNTNTNT

Riley couldn't believe what he was hearing. _The letters. _Uncle Samuel's letters. Those simple pieces of paper in his great uncle's familiar, comfortable scrawl, the letters he'd been looking forward to every week, that had been so full of love and humor and quiet caring...they were what? The sentiments of a murderer? A ruse to keep a blackmail scheme alive? Riley couldn't believe that. He wouldn't. "No. You're wrong. Who told you this, Uncle Deacon? Whoever it was, they were lying! Was it Mom? You know you can't believe her, she's..."

He stopped short of saying it. Tears stung his eyes. This was all so sick.

"An addict," his uncle said softly. "Riley, Samuel was her supplier."

Riley gave another whole-hearted tug on his trapped arm, but Deacon still wouldn't let go. "Uncle Deacon, that's not true! Uncle Samuel was the best part of this family! He-He wouldn't do that to us! Just leave me alone. Let me go." He'd known his mother was taking drugs. She'd done so most of his life. But when it got really bad and she was arrested or in rehab or she just couldn't take care of him, Uncle Samuel always came. Samuel couldn't be the one who made her like that. Samuel was his hero. The one man he'd been able to count on no matter what. He wasn't some drug dealer.

"Riley, listen to me," the man said.

"No."

"Listen to me!" He shook him slightly, making sure he had his nephew's full attention. "You're in danger. Rick knows you have the letters. He knows about all your money. Riley, I know what he's capable of. You're not safe."

"Rick wouldn't hurt me," Riley denied.

"Rick would hurt you. He's hurt a lot of people Riley. He may even be the one who killed Samuel; I don't know. But you need to listen to me, son. What I'm telling you right now is the truth. As long as you have those letters, you're a threat to him. Now I need you to tell me where the letters are."

Riley could only stare, shaking his head, unable to comprehend what Deacon was saying.

Deacon shook him again, more gently this time. "Tell me where the letters are, Riley."

"I...they're at home," Riley said slowly, his voice hollow. "I can get them here by tomorrow."

Deacon finally released him. The man paused and rubbed his hand down his face, looking at his nephew like he wasn't really sure what to do. Finally he reached out and placed his hand on Riley's shoulder. "I'm sorry, son," he said softly. "Now I want you to go make the call or whatever you have to do to get them here, all right? We're going to fix this. I'm not going to let him get to you. There's a room upstairs to your left; you'll be safe enough here for the night." Riley found himself nodding. "If you need anything..." He let himself trail off.

"Sure," Riley said quietly. Without another look at his uncle, Riley turned and slowly climbed the stairs. He found his room and shut the door behind him, immediately drawing his cell phone out of his pocket. Ben. He really needed to talk to Ben. He sat down on the bed and hit his best friend's number. It rang. And rang. Riley's pulse quickened with each passing second, each ring. Finally Ben's voice mail picked up. Riley lowered the phone from his ear, his heart dropping down to the pit of his stomach. There was no reason Riley could think of that Ben wouldn't answer his cell. Not right after Riley had been freaking kidnapped at gunpoint! The only reason Ben wouldn't answer his phone was if...he couldn't. Riley swallowed and stood up. _This can't be happening. _He looked out the window. It would be getting dark soon.

He felt panic well up inside his chest and started pacing to relieve some of the pressure. Ben wasn't dead, Riley told himself firmly. He would know if Ben was dead. So if he was hurt, would that mean Rick...? Riley shook his head. He wasn't going to start panicking. He needed answers. The first answer he needed was where Ben was and whether or not he was okay_. That's right, Riley. Prioritize_. Ironic that's exactly what his Success in Education teacher in college had told him. And he'd totally succeeded in education! The same concept totally had to apply to real life, right? Because that was what college was for...preparing people. For real life. Riley nodded to himself. One thing was for sure. He couldn't stay with his uncle. If something was going on with his family, he had to find out on his own. Although, on his own with Ben would also be plenty acceptable. He went to the window and pushed it open. It would be tricky, but the drain pipe looked like it would hold. And that Oldsmobile was still in the driveway. Right. This would be a piece of cake.

NTNTNTNTNT

As soon as it was dark enough, Riley was ready to go. He buttoned his black suit jacket to further camouflage him in the night. Despite himself, he left the tie on, for no other reason than that it made him feel kind of James Bond-ish. He made his way to the open window and eased himself through, trying to make as little noise as possible. Once on the roof, he managed to shimmy down the drainpipe mostly silently and less than gracefully. His tie caught on the gutter, though, and he barely managed to get it over his head and off without alerting the neighbors or totally strangling himself. Although, all in all, he figured, he was doing pretty well, considering "shimmying" was never a verb he'd have imagined himself doing. He made it to the ground with only a few minor scrapes and scratches and a tear in the shoulder of his three hundred dollar jacket. Ah, well. Luckily it was the one Abi picked out. Though she'd probably kill him. He paused for a moment, looking up to see the tie fluttering in the breeze. With a final salute, he kept going.

He ran to the car and pulled the door open, reaching beneath the driver's side and fumbling with the wires. He'd seen this done a zillion times on TV. Easy as pie. Just before he actually dismantled anything, he glanced up and realized the key was still in the ignition. _Well, _he thought. _This is a bit disappointing. _He'd always wanted to hotwire a car. _Although, I guess this does save time. _He started the engine and drove off, pointing the car east and heading back to the motel. Riley had no idea where Ben was or what was going on. But he figured he knew the best place to start.

As he pulled into the hotel parking lot, he was out of the car practically before it stopped rolling. He ran into the room he shared with Ben, not bothering to pause to turn on the lights. He knew exactly what he was looking for. The duffel on the far side of the room. He picked it up and set it on the bed. Unzipping it quickly, he turned it over and dumped all its contents onto the bedspread, fumbling through his clothes until his hands closed around the old shoebox.

Suddenly, Riley was grabbed roughly from behind, hurled around, and thrown back against the wall, head ringing with the impact. A fist seized the front of his shirt, as another swung back, set on a collision course for his head. His attacker said two angry, slightly slurred words. "Wrong move." A voice he'd recognize anywhere.

"Ben, wait!" he spit out frantically, breathing rough. "It's me." He cringed, shutting his eyes. _How perfect is this? After everything that's happened, it's Ben who finally punches my lights out. Man, I hate irony. _

The older man froze, stopping in mid-swing. "Riley?"

Riley sighed in relief. "Yeah, man." He nodded. Ben didn't move for a moment, the fist balled in the material of Riley's shirt didn't loosen. Riley tugged on Ben's wrist and cleared his throat. "You, uh…you wanna let me go?"

Instead of being released, Riley let out a startled yelp as he was suddenly pulled forward into a tight hug. Surprised the heck out of him. Not that he was complaining, exactly. He was just happy Ben was there and okay and apparently in good enough condition to effectively beat the crap out of any would-be intruders. But the fact that Ben was in beat-the-crap-out-of-would-be-intruders mode probably meant things were every bit as bad as they seemed. "Ben?" he asked quietly. "You're okay, right?"

"Concussion," the man replied matter-of-factly. "You?"

"Minor lacerations."

"Tire iron."

"Drain pipe."

"Ah."

"Yep." Riley nodded against his chest, letting the sheer normalcy of Ben's tone ground him a little before he asked a question that made his stomach twist. "Rick hurt you, didn't he?" He was glad he didn't have to look at the man as he said it.

There was a short pause. "Probably not as badly as he hurt you," Ben said with no small measure of sympathy, making no move to release his young friend. "But I don't understand what happened. He must've hit me with something. I woke up back here in time to catch you bursting through the door. Didn't realize it was you. Sorry about that, by the way."

"The fact that you refrained from giving me a black eye to match yours helps your case quite a bit."

"Riley, tell me what happened. Who were those guys? How'd you get back here?"

"Ben, I don't really know what happened," Riley said honestly. "But...I think I might have a way to find out." He finally pulled back and snatched up the shoe box. He lifted the lid to reveal bunches and bunches of letters.

NTNTNTNTNT

"So tell me what we're looking for here, Riley," Ben said as the two sat picking through piles of letters. They'd decided to leave the motel, both agreeing it was too dangerous to stay there. They'd checked out and headed back to the cemetery to pick up Optima Prime. Ben had pulled into the parking lot of a Hardee's and Riley had filled him in on everything that Deacon had told him. He really _really _wanted the man to be lying or mistaken. Heck, even crazy would work.

"I don't know. You're the treasure hunter. You tell me."

"Did Deacon say _how_ Samuel put the location in the letters?"

Riley shook his head. "Just that it's in here somewhere. I don't get it. What's the point of giving me the information if I don't have any idea that I have it? What if I'd thrown the letters away?"

"He knew you wouldn't throw them away," Ben stated absently.

"Yeah? How do you figure?"

"I've read some of these letters. Anyone who knows you at all would know that these would be important to you."

Riley took a sharp breath and looked at Ben with wide eyes. "You're right," he said as it dawned on him. "So...what if he just wrote them like that so that...I'd keep them?"

Ben realized what he'd said and shook his head. "Riley, we don't know that."

Riley's voice rose as he spoke again. "What if he was just playing me? What if he wrote all that stuff just because he knew I'd be stupid enough to think he really _did_ freaking care and just pitiful enough to hold onto them because I was that desperate for someone _to_ freaking care? Geeze, how pathetic am I?"

"Hey, come on. You really believe that?"

Riley looked over at him. "Which part?"

"Any of it."

"I..." Riley studied Ben carefully. "Do you believe any of it?"

"I didn't know him. I don't know what he did or what he thought. I know you. You're not pathetic."

"Well, maybe I am pathetic. How do you know?"

Ben glanced over at him and said simply, "Because I freaking care." He hid a grin as Riley opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. Kid had no idea what to say to that. It was true Riley craved attention and affection, even if the young man had entirely convinced himself he didn't need either. Riley was sort of one big contradiction. Nearly everything he did was an attempt to somehow simultaneously earn someone's affections and keep them at arm's length. It had confused the heck out of Ben for the longest time. Then he realized that the kid simply hadn't gotten much attention and had a thrown up a few walls to ensure he couldn't easily be hurt. He wasn't sure he'd ever met anyone as starved or in need of affection as the young man sitting to his right. Ben was only just now beginning to realize how far back in Riley's life this went. So, yeah, it was sad. But quite the opposite of pathetic. He felt a warm rush of pride at how strong his friend actually was. He cleared his throat. "So shut up and think. Is there anything in particular you can think of about any of these letters that struck you as odd when you read it? Anything at all?"

Riley ducked his head to hide his own shy smile before biting his lip in concentration. "He got a couple of dates mixed up a few times," he offered after a moment.

"Yeah? When?"

"A few weeks ago. I just thought maybe he was confused or something. But then he didn't usually forget stuff like that. He could tell stories from years ago and get all the dates and stuff right. A lot of times, he had the details down to what we were wearing. He had a great memory, so it's not like he'd forget what day it was. That's why it kind of stuck out."

"Find the letter."

Riley picked through the letters until he found the right ones. There were three letters. "See, here it says May 28. I got this letter, like, the second week in May. Definitely not the 28th."

"What do the others say?"

"This one says the 5th. And I got it _after_ the last one. This other one says the 14th. It didn't make any sense at the time."

"28-5-14."

Riley looked up at him. "You think it could be like a combination or something?"

"I don't know. A combination to what?"

"I...have no idea," Riley admitted.

"Think, Riley. Can you think of any other discrepancies?"

"Um...Wait a minute." He rifled through the letters quickly, pulling one out of the stack. His eyes scanned it quickly. "Ben," he said, sounding surprised. "I think I've got it."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Two quickish updates in a row? Call me butter. Hope you enjoy this, guys. ;)

NTNTNTNTNTNT

"The high school," Riley said. "I...I think it's at the high school. The one in Quincey."

Ben sat forward in his seat. "The high school? Why?"

"Well, in here he's asking me if I remember the time he took me to Florida with him for vacation. How I was all nervous about missing school."

"So?"

"So we went during the _summer_. School was already out. Besides, why the heck would I be nervous about missing school to go to Florida? I missed school all the time. Missing school to go to Florida would have been like the highlight of my young life."

"And schools have lockers," Ben pointed out.

Riley looked at him. "Exactly," he said. "Um, he said in the letter we were on flight 2319. But that's not true. That trip it was flight 721."

"Wait, you remember the flight number of a plane ride you went on back in high school?" Ben asked in amazement.

"Not as astounding as you might think. He made a big deal about it back then, 'cause July 21 is my birthday. We joked about it all week. You think 2319 could be the locker number?"

"With the combination 28-5-14. Riley, you're a genius."

Ben started the car and pulled out. He looked over to see Riley staring at the letter in his hand almost like he was mad at it. Like it had betrayed him. In a sense, maybe it had. "Hey," he said. "You okay?"

Riley looked up at him. The look in his eyes testified to the fact that he was anything but okay. "If there's something in that locker, then..." he paused, eyes dropping to stare once again at the paper in his hands. "Then Deacon was right. Ben, what if Rick..."

"He's not going to hurt you," Ben said firmly.

"Deacon said he would."

"I won't let him hurt you," Ben rephrased.

Riley wasn't satisfied. "What about you? You're the guy walking around with a black eye, half-concussed. Which means I should be driving, by the way. But Ben, my brother already knocked you out with a tire iron. You got punched in the eye because I couldn't get my stuff off a plane without starting some sort of catastrophe. This whole trip's been nothing but one headache after another for you. Like, literally. And now, for all we know, Rick could be after us, and I don't...I don't even know what he'll do. What the heck are you still doing here? Why don't you go home before you get hurt again? I can check the locker later. I'll just go tomorrow night."

Ben didn't take his eyes from the road. "You want me to go home?"he clarified.

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Riley nodded, almost convincingly. "I mean, you can probably catch a flight out of here tonight, I bet."

Ben paused for a moment. "And...you _really_ expect that to happen?"

Riley opened his mouth, shut it, then smiled slightly to himself. No, he realized. He didn't. He glanced over at his friend. Ben was grinning. "Quit looking so smug. It was a logical argument."

"Quite logical," Ben allowed.

"You're not going anywhere, are you?"

"Of course I am."

The smile disappeared, and the younger man seemed to shrink into his seat. He let out a hollow "Oh."

Ben shook his head. "You geek," he said fondly. Questioning eyes turned to stare at him. "I'm going to Quincey High. We're going to find out if there's anything there. If there is, we'll call the police, get everything squared away, go eat Chinese, and then you and I will go home. So you see, I've already thought all this out."

Riley leaned his head back against the headrest, smile back in place just like that. "Oh, well, as long as you have a plan." He rolled his head over to look at his friend. "Thanks, Ben."

"Always."

"Seriously, though, don't get hurt anymore. I don't want to explain all these injuries to Abi, okay?"

"Same to you."

"Naturally."

NTNTNTNT

"You know I really never figured on breaking into this place," Riley said as they pulled up to his old high school. "I spent most of my time figuring out ways to get out of it."

"Funny, I pegged you as kind of the bookish type."

Riley shot his friend a look. "How many bookish types do you know who actually enjoyed _going _to high school?"

"Good point." They exited the car and walked toward the dark, quiet building. The campus was deserted in a definite ghost town sort of way.

Riley shivered and wrapped his arms across his chest, glad he'd changed into his favorite hoodie and jeans before leaving the motel. "Eerie."

"Most definitely. So you weren't exactly high school jock material, then?"

"I don't know about that. I did do a lot of running."

"Track?"

A very pointed look and an almost embarassed grin. "Ah, no." At Ben's confused expression, the younger man cringed slightly and said, "In track, you mostly run _toward_ something. Most of my running was more..._away_ from something. Or some...one." He winced and tried to explain. "I was kind of an obnoxious kid."

Ben finally understood. "Ah."

"Heck of a sprinter, though."

Ben nodded thoughtfully. "I could see that."

Riley looked up at him like he wasn't entirely sure whether or not he should be offended. "Which part? The sprinter or the obnoxious?"

As he walked, Ben reached out and draped an arm across his friend's shoulders. "Both."

NTNTNTNTNT

Making their way into the building didn't pose a serious problem. After all, compared to the job they did on the National Archives building, asking those two for a little B and E at the local public high school was more or less like asking van Gough to draw a stick figure. A veritable walk in the park.

As Riley led the way through the old building that had been his stomping grounds for four years, he couldn't help but reflect on old times. Well, he supposed he couldn't really call it reflecting. It was more like being realy, really glad he could now classify them as "old times." High school was not the best four years of his life.

"So you know where we're going, right?" Ben asked.

"2319. Should be on the second floor." Riley felt inexplicably uncomfortable in the dark, deserted hallways. The heavy silence was broken only by their footsteps, which sounded almost obscenely loud in the stillness of the building. Infinitely different than the bustling hallways of his high school days. It was too weird. "So what were you in high school?" he asked his friend, needing to get his mind off the stuffy silence and what they were about to do.

Ben looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"What were you? Jock? Prep? Geek? Captain of the history club, maybe?"

"They didn't have a history club at my high school."

Riley pretended to look appalled. "And you didn't _start _one? My faith in you as a historian has just been severely shaken, Benjamin Franklin Gates."

Without even bothering to roll his eyes, Ben stated, "So noted, Riley James Poole. But for your information, I was...in band."

Riley grinned, his voice raising a bit in surprise. "Seriously? I didn't know you were musical. What'd you play?"

"I played the violin."

Riley frowned. "The violin? We didn't have any violins here. Did they make you wear one of those feathery hats?"

"I wasn't in marching band, Riley. It was symphonic band." Ben smiled.

"Oh," Riley considered that. "Good. In all the marching band pictures, the kids all looked really angry. But the violin, huh? Were you any good?"

"I...no," Ben admitted. "I was actually pretty terrible."

"And here I thought you were great at everything."

"Disappointed?"

"Ecstatic, actually."

Ben grinned and shook his head. "Figures."

"This is it." Riley had stopped at the locker at the end of the hall on the corner, right next to a set of double doors that led to the west staircase. Ben had a mini flashlight on his key chain. He clicked it on an shone the light over the locker number. 2319. Riley cleared a suddenly scratchy throat. "What was that combination?"

"28-5-14," Ben supplied gently, suspecting Riley knew exactly what the numbers were. The kid had worked in a cubicle for two years running numbers for a large company that had never quite appreciated his technological prowess. He remembered numbers. "You want me to..."

"No," Riley said too abruptly, his voice a bit too loud. He lowered his voice when he spoke again. "No. I'll do it. Thanks." He reached out and touched the dial while Ben held the light for him. He took a deep breath and turned. 28..._Please let it be empty. _5..._Let this not work. _Just before the arrow hit the 14, he stopped without looking up. "Ben, Uncle Samuel was a good man. He wouldn't hurt anyone. I don't care what anyone else says. He wouldn't."

"I believe you." Riley closed his eyes, almost hating the simple understanding in his best friend's voice. It scared him a little, having Ben there. Knowing Ben wouldn't leave no matter how much it didn't make sense for him to stay. Knowing how much he needed Ben there no matter how much it didn't make sense for him to stay. "I believe you, kid."

Riley felt himself slowly nod, turning the dial that one last centimeter. He pulled up on the lock. It didn't catch. It slid up easily. The combination worked. Heart aching, Riley started to pull open the blue metal door. Ben's hand suddenly clamped down on his wrist, stopping the movement. Confused, Riley looked up to see Ben looking, not at him, but at something behind him. Eyes wide, Riley turned his head to follow Ben's line of sight. He suddenly couldn't swallow.

"Uncle Deacon?" he choked out.

The man was standing there in the open doorway, staring him down over the barrel of a pistol. "You should've stayed in your room, Riley," the man said coldly. "And you shouldn't have lied to me."

NTNTNTNT

And then, everybody DIED! No, I'm kidding. YoSafBridge, that was for you. ;)

Don't get mad at the cliffie, okay? Well, okay, maybe a little mad. I probably deserve that. That was kind of evil. But I'm working as fast as I can! Promise!


	7. Chapter 7

daisyduke80 found a song by Avril Lavigne that really touches on the kind of friendship between Ben and Riley. If you want to hear the song and see the lyrics, go to my profile for the link to view it. (I'd put it here, but the site won't let me!) Thanks, daisyduke80!

NTNTNTNTNTNT

Sort of detachedly, Riley wondered how hard his heart would have to be pounding for it to suddenly explode out of his chest. If the way it was hammering away at that moment was any indication, he'd be finding out soon enough. Then he realized that thinking of anything exploding around his chest area was probably not the wisest choice psychologically, what with the man standing with pistol trained on him only a few feet away. He blinked and had to exhale quickly before he could speak again. "What are you..."

"Back away from the locker," the man ordered. Always the thinker, Ben responded automatically, pulling the still floundering Riley back away from the locker and the gunman. Deacon approached the open locker, taking a small maglight from his pocket and twisting it on.

"Would you believe I just wanted to give Ben a tour of my old high school?" Riley ventured.

"Shut up."

As Deacon pushed the door open, Riley glanced up at Ben, mouthing the words, "That's a no."

"How'd you find us?" Ben asked.

"I followed you," the man answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You didn't think I'd make it that simple for you, did you?" He barely spared them a glance as he pulled a thick file folder from the locker. Sticking the flashlight in his mouth, he flipped through the folder briefly, lips curling upward in a smile. He shut it and took the light out of his mouth, looking at Riley. "Left the letters at home, did you?"

"Well, you know how fast those UPS guys are..."

"I wouldn't aggravate me if I were you, son."

"I'm not your son. At this point, I'm pretty sure I'd like to resign my post as nephew. Tell me what's going on, Deacon." Riley wasn't sure where the sudden burst of boldness was coming from, but he was sick and tired of all the lies and the games, and he needed answers. "What did you do?"

Surprisingly enough, the man smiled. "This may come as a shock, but...I lied. If it's any consolation, we'll have plenty of time to talk it over. You'll be coming with me, now. Both of you."

"You want to tell us why?" Ben asked, fists clenched at his sides.

"For turning down my lunch invitation this afternoon," the man said glibly. "Mr. Gates, I'm a business man. Think of me as sort of a non-profit organization. You're about to make a sizeable contribution to my enterprise. Tax free."

"You're going to hold us for ransom?" Riley asked incredulously.

"I always did think you were the bright one."

Riley could only shake his head in amazement. "So everything you said was a lie?"

"Oh, no, Riley," Deacon said darkly. "No, not everything." He held up the folder. "This is proof enough of that."

"Then why are you kidnapping us now?" Ben asked.

"You, sir, are the icing on the cake. Young Riley made the mistake of assuming that this wasn't all about him. You'd do well to curb some of that humility, nephew."

"Wh...What do you mean?" The younger man felt hopelessly lost.

"Time enough for that later. There's a car waiting outside. I want you both to move. Now."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you." Deacon froze at the voice behind him and the feel of hard metal at the back of his skull.

He sucked in a deep breath. "Rick."

"Put the gun down. Give me the folder."

"And I always did think you were the dull one. Rick, you may want to think about what you're doing."

The elder Poole pretended to think it over. "Mmm...Nope. Won't help. Put it down, Deacon. Now."

"How did you..."

"I followed you," Rick said, an edge of ridicule to his voice. "You didn't think I'd make it that simple for you, did you? And if you stall another second, I am going to kill you."

Slowly, the man complied, lowering the gun to the floor and straightening with hands raised. "You can't possibly presume to..."

"Shut up." Rick plucked the folder out of the man's grasp and flipped it open, eyes scanning it briefly. "Genius," he murmured. His eyes rose to find the wide blue ones he knew would be staring back at him. "You all right, little brother?"

Riley swallowed suddenly. He could think of at least a dozen times his brother had said those exact same words to him. When he was little and had nightmares, he would crawl into bed with his big brother, ever careful not to wake Mommy, and Rick would put his arm around him and ask that same question. It meant, "You're safe." It meant, "I love you." It meant, "I'm not going anywhere." All of which, had turned out to be lies. And now the man stood there all these years later, gun in his hand, holding a folder that in all likelihood had something to do with Uncle Samuel's death. For him to say those words now... Riley shook his head and spoke lowly, voice laced with hurt and anger. "I hate you."

Deacon suddenly let out a bark of laughter. "Wow. Hear that, Rick? Your baby brother _hates_ you. If he only knew the real story, huh?"

Rick turned on Deacon. "Shut up."

"Did you kill Uncle Samuel?" Riley demanded of his brother, eyes reflecting every bit of pain and loss embedded into the question. The death of two heroes. "What happened to him? Tell me the truth, Rick. How'd he die?"

It was Deacon who answered, words dripping with cruel sarcasm. "You want the answer to that question, my dear, sweet nephew, all you need to do is look in the mirror. Riley, the man responsible for Samuel's death will be staring right back at you."

"I said shut up! Not another word, or I swear..." Rick's words were cut short with the horrifyingly deafening sound of a gunshot.

Time slowed as Rick's hand clamped onto his side before he collapsed. He landed on the floor with a soft thud, body going rigid then limp in a growing pool of red. Deacon stood over him, holding the small handgun he had hidden up his sleeve. He clicked his tongue. "Come now, Rick. Didn't your mother teach you not to swear?" He raised the gun toward Ben and Riley. "Don't touch him."

Riley didn't hear. Truthfully, he didn't even really see the man with the gun. All he saw was his brother on the ground, the life slowly ebbing out of him from the little hole just left of his stomach. He tried to run to his brother, but strong arms caught him, wouldn't let go. "No! Let go!" He struggled to get free.

"No, Riley, listen to me..."

"Let me go! Rick!"

But Ben held tight, turning him into his chest and holding him there in a crushing grip, even as he kept fighting and struggling to get free. Ben looked up to the dark-eyed man watching the scene without empathy. "You monster."

Deacon's expression didn't change. "At least now you know I'm serious. Get him to the car."

With a last fierce look of anger toward the criminal, Ben turned his attention to the kid in his arms still striving to free himself. He pulled the younger man back, holding him in place with a hand gripping each arm. Riley's eyes were still on his brother, voice frantic and far away. "I gotta help him, Ben."

"Riley, listen to me."

He continued to squirm. "No, I have to..."

Ben gave him a short shake, "Listen to me!" Huge, heartbreaking blue eyes finally turned to look up at him. Tearful eyes full of such pain it was an agonizing reminder to Ben how much he couldn't protect his friend from all that pain. Right now all he could do was get him moving and to keep him living. The rest they would deal with later. "You can't help him right now. There's nothing you can do. We have to go."

Riley shook his head vigorously. "I can't."

"You can. I'll help you."

"I won't ask the both of you again," Deacon intoned behind them.

"Come on, Riley."

The younger man bit his lip and nodded, breaths coming out short and heavy through his nose. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Ben knew the apology wasn't meant for him. As they stepped through the double doors, and descended the staircase, Riley's eyes saw nothing but the prone form of his brother. His brother and all that blood.

NTNTNTNTNT

None of them said a word as they made their way accross the parking lot. Deacon walked behind Ben and Riley, the unyielding presence of the gun at Riley's back a very tangible reminder that they weren't to try anything stupid. Suddenly, a slew of police cruisers came racing around the bend, lights flashing, sirens blaring. As the leading car slid to a stop in front of the group, doors opened, and there were policemen with guns trained on Deacon, ordering him to the ground.

Ben grabbed Riley and moved to get him away at the same moment Deacon raised his gun. A gunshot sounded and Riley turned his head as blood sprayed up and Deacon's body jerked with the impact. He didn't drop the gun until a second round put him on the ground. Riley stood in shock, barely registering the fact that his uncle's blood had misted the front of his hoodie and the side of his face. He couldn't stop looking at the open, unseeing eyes.

A police officer approached the pair. "Are you two all right?"

Riley felt himself nod, even while his insides were screaming at him that he was really, really _not _all right.

"You're Riley Poole."

"Yes." When did his voice start sounding so weird and distant?

"Your brother, Rick. Is he here?"

Rick. Suddenly Riley's mind came rushing back. He turned to the officer, really seeing him for the first time. "Yes, he's in there. Deacon shot him; you have to help!"

"All right. All right, son. We'll help him. Calm down," he man soothed. He spoke quickly into his radio, ordering an ambulance. Several officers were already rushing into the building.

Riley felt a vague pain in his right arm. He looked down to see Ben's hand clamped down on his forearm in a nearly white-knuckled grip. "Ben?"

The older man was staring at the gun in Deacon's hand. He'd seen exactly how close it came to going off. Another split second, and Riley might've... Ben shook his head, eyes tracking up as his friend called his name. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Hey."

"Hey. Um, my arm..."

Ben looked down and immediately released him. "I'm sorry."

"'s okay," Riley breathed, nodding. "Sir?" He spoke to the officer. "He's...okay, right? Rick's all right?"

"He's still alive. The ambulance is on its way."

Riley nodded, sending up a silent "Thank You." His attention turned to the folder that had fallen from Deacon's hand, and he watched as the officer stooped to pick it up. The folder. That had to be what had caused all this. He went to the officer, eyes studiously avoiding contact with the dead man on the ground. He didn't know what was in the folder. He wasn't even sure he cared. But he had to ask a question. "One thing I need to know. Please." The officer looked at him. "Rick. My brother. He...He's a good guy, right?"

The officer looked confused. "You mean, you still don't know? Rick didn't tell you?"

Riley shook his head. "He didn't get a chance to tell me anything. Please, tell me why my brother just got shot."

"You sure you don't want to wait to hear this until we're back at the..."

"No. I need to know what's going on. I need to know now. Tell me why this is happening."

The officer took a deep breath. "Son, Deacon Parks has been running a drug ring for a long time. He's hurt a lot of people. When Rick was about sixteen, Parks wanted to bring him into the business. When Rick refused, Parks hired some local teenagers to...persuade him."

Riley nearly choked on his words. "The beating."

The man nodded. "Yes. When Rick was nearly killed as a result, and there was no way to tie Parks to either the drug ring or the beating, your great uncle Samuel took Rick. He sent him to live with a close friend of his upstate that Parks didn't know about. It was the only way to get him out. But Samuel couldn't get to you in time. Parks had men on you by then, and he swore if Samuel went to the police, he'd kill you. Samuel told him about the evidence he'd been able to gather about a couple of murders Parks had committed, that he had it hidden and kept it moving from place to place. He used that as leverage to keep himself alive and make sure Parks couldn't touch you or bring you into his drug business."

Riley was nodding painfully, mind flooding with images of the beating, his brother at sixteen, lying on the ground, the gunshot, Rick in a pool of his own blood...He suddenly felt sick. So a lot of what Deacon had said was true. There were drugs, and there were murders. It was just that Deacon was the one who committed them. "So what happened?" he managed.

"We think Parks killed Samuel."

Swallowing, Riley asked, "What changed?"

The officer looked like he really didn't want to answer. But he answered anyway. "Parks must've counted it an acceptable risk compared to the gain."

The answer landed on Riley's chest like a ton of bricks. "My money," he whispered. "He found out about my money."

The man nodded. "He must've believed he could find Samuel's hidden evidence before anyone else and the prospect of all your wealth was just too great an opportunity to pass up."

Riley swallowed hard, tears springing to his eyes. No. This couldn't be happening. It was too much. Too much pain. It was his fault? Uncle Samuel was killed because of him?

The officer kept talking. "After Samuel died, we knew your mother had contacted you. Rick knew about the letters and came to us, saying he'd testify to everything and help us find Samuel's evidence if when he brought you to us, we got you away and put somewhere safe."

Mind spinning with this new information, Riley found himself nodding, offering a hollow, "Thank you," as nauseating guilt fisted itself around his stomach. He turned and saw his brother being carried out of the building on a backboard and placed on a gurney. He looked back at the officer. "I'd like to go with him to the hospital."

"Of course," the man nodded in kind understanding. "We'll have an officer there waiting to make sure you both stay safe." He sounded apologetic as he added, "Sooner or later, we're going to need you to answer some questions."

Riley didn't really want to think about it. "Sure."

Offering a reassuring smile, the man clasped his shoulder. "So yeah, kid. There's your answer. Your brother's a very good guy."

With another deep breath, Riley started toward the ambulance at a fast pace. "Hey," Ben called, following him. "You want me to drive you to the hospital?"

Riley shook his head. "I'll go in the ambulance."

Ben frowned. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll probably be at the hospital awhile. You don't have to..."

"I'll meet you there."

Riley realized it would be pointless to argue. The simple kindness made his gut twist. He didn't deserve Ben. Didn't deserve Rick. Didn't deserve Uncle Samuel. "Fine."

He left Ben behind, climbing into the ambulance after his brother. As the paramedics worked, trying to keep Rick alive, Riley could only stare with wide, glassy eyes. There was so much blood, the medics moving at a frantic pace trying to stabilize him, throwing vitals and orders back and forth. _He could die. _The thought suddenly permeated his shock-numbed mind. _Deacon got shot. Now he's dead. There's a bullet inside Rick. He...he could die._

NTNTNTNTNTNT

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and stuff, guys. Another chapter or two, and this should wrap itself up! Stay tuned. Hopefully all questions shall be answered!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Another late-ish update. Gross. Sincerest apologies, dear readers! But thanks as always for reading!

* * *

NTNTNTNTNTNT 

Ben walked into the hospital at a clip, heading straight for the front desk. It was barely 10:30 on a Friday night, and traffic had been less than kind. He was late, and he really needed to see Riley. "I'm looking for a Rick Poole. He was admitted tonight."

The woman at the desk nodded and consulted her computer. "Yes...um...here. Mr. Poole has been taken into emergency surgery. Are you family?"

"Yes. Do you know how long it'll be?"

"Probably a few hours. There's a waiting room on the second floor. Go right as you get off the elevator, and it's toward the end of the hall on the left. The surgeon will come see you when he's finished."

"Thank you." He started to turn away, but her voice stopped him.

"There was another guy here for Rick Poole. Younger, dark hair. He your...brother, I guess?"

"Yeah. He's up there, right?"

She shook her head. "Just left. He walked out that door maybe ten or fifteen minutes before you walked in. He..." She paused and bit her lip. "He didn't look so good. There's a police officer waiting up there, though. He called down here looking for him. Didn't sound happy that your brother'd left and told me to call when he came back. You want me to call up there and tell him you're here?"

Ben looked toward the door. He'd left? He glanced back at the woman. "That'll be fine. Thank you," he said, before heading back out the way he came. Riley couldn't have gotten far. Kid didn't even have a ride. And heck, why _would _he leave? He had nowhere to go. Ben's heart started beating faster in his chest as he turned and started down the sidewalk, quickening his pace. Riley was in trouble. He had to be. That was the only reason Ben could think of that Riley would have left that hospital while his brother was in surgery. Ben was almost at a jog when suddenly, he stopped. Several yards away, he saw the object of his search, perfectly healthy and unscathed, pacing back and forth in the grass behind a park bench, trying his luck at smoking a cigarette of all things. If the way he was practically hacking his lungs up was any indication, he wasn't doing very well. Ben bit down on his bottom lip, taking a moment to collect himself. It probably wouldn't be real advantagious to go yell at the kid now. He approached the younger man quietly, standing behind him for a few moments. Riley gave no indication he knew Ben was there, but Ben had a feeling the kid was very aware of his presence. "Why'd you leave?" he finally asked.

The younger man stopped and turned to look at him, unsurprised, his normally sparkling eyes dull with fear and grief and guilt. He shrugged and resumed his pacing. "Little too stuffy in there."

Ben merely stood and watched him, arms crossed. There was oh so much more to it than that. He could wait the younger man out.

Riley didn't disappoint. "He could die, you know," he said quietly.

"I know."

Riley nodded, letting out a wheezy breath like just voicing that fear had released something inside him, and trying once again to draw on the cigarette. He had to cough again.

"Riley, where did you get that?" Ben asked.

"Guy was waiting out here. He said I looked like I needed one. His wife is dying. His wife is dying, and he thought _I _looked like I needed a cigarette."

"You don't smoke."

"It's supposed to relieve stress."

"If you're a _smoker._"

Riley looked down at the cigarette in his hand. He looked up. "Oh. That might explain why it's not really working." He let out another wheezy cough.

Ben shook his head. "Give me that." He plucked the cigarette from Riley's fingers and put it out on the sidewalk. "You start smoking now, and I'll kill you. Now why aren't you inside? And where's your hoodie? It's freezing out here."

Riley looked down at the flimsy black t-shirt and seemed to realize he was shivering. He shrugged one shoulder and wrapped his arms around himself. "I threw it away. It's not my favorite hoodie anymore."

Ben belatedly remembered the blood that had sprayed accross the front of that hoodie. With Riley's head ducked, a nearby streetlamp illuminated the side of his face, still speckled with a few tiny drops of red. Ben sighed and shrugged out of his brown leather jacket, glad he'd worn a sweater. Without a word, he wrapped it around his friend's shoulders. Riley didn't look up at him, but the light from the lamp reflected off the moisture in the too-bright eyes.

"Geeze, Ben. I'm your best friend, not your girlfriend," he muttered. It was a token protest as the younger man made no effort to shrug off the jacket.

"Shush," Ben instructed without heat. "You want to go inside?"

There was a pause before Riley answered with a quiet, ashamed "I can't."

Ben nodded and, without saying anything, stepped around the side of the bench and sat down. He couldn't see Riley's face, but he could practically feel the younger man staring at him. Finally, Riley very slowly walked around to stand in front of the bench. Ever so gradually, he lowered himself down onto the seat. As soon as his butt touched the bench, he was up again. "This is so stupid!" he said, voice an odd mix of anger and utter confusion. Ben suspected Riley wasn't even sure what he was feeling.

"Which part?" Ben asked neutrally.

"Well, where shall we start? Hm." His sarcasm was heavily laden with self-deprecation. "Oh, how about the part where I decided it would be a good idea to show up here in the first place? Yes, let's start there. My _mother_ calls me up and tells me Uncle Samuel's dead and it would be nice if I came. And I believed her! Like, you'd think I'd have learned _by now _that's so not a good idea. But no, she called, and I came running, a-freaking-gain!" He'd started up the pacing again, like his mind was racing so fast his legs were trying to catch up.

"You didn't come for your mom. You came for your uncle. Because of what he meant to you."

Riley went on like he hadn't heard. "And then...oh yeah, then I took my uncle's word over my brother's because, hey, it's not like Rick ever did anything for me. He pretty much only raised me until I was eleven. Protected me from pretty much everything. So yeah, why wouldn't I believe he's a drug dealer slash murderer slash whatever the heck else Deacon said? Oh, wait, you know what? I've got it. When I was eight, he took the glow-in-the-dark Batman sticker from the bottom of the cereal box, even though I wanted it. That pretty much seals it. Cereal box thievery. You know that's gotta be a gateway crime."

"Riley..."

"It was all because of me, Ben!" Riley whirled around and faced him, eyes filled with tears and agony. "Uncle Samuel's dead and Rick's...shot, because of _me_!"

"Hey! Hang on. This was not your fault, Riley."

"It is, Ben! If it wasn't for me everything would be fine. Deaon would never have killed Uncle Samuel. Rick never would've come for me. And Deacon wouldn't have been able to shoot him! And he wouldn't be in there...dying..."

Ben stood and took his friend by slightly trembling shoulders. "You don't know he's dying. And this is horrible and terrible, but everything about it that's horrible and terrible is because of Deacon, because of the choices _he_ made and the things that _he_ did. You did nothing wrong. Nothing." He punctuated the sentence by giving the younger man a slight shake. "You love Samuel, and you love Rick. And you know and I know and they know that you'd never do anything to hurt either of them."

"I told him I hate him, Ben!" A few tears finally broke loose. He swiped at them angrily. "Everything he did for me, and I said I hate him, and it was probably the last thing I'll ever get to tell him, and I can't...He could die, and I don't want...Ben, how do I _fix_ this?" He tried half-heartedly to pull away, but when Ben tugged him close and wrapped his arms around him, he put up no resistance. "I don't hate him, Ben," he whispered brokenly into his best friend's chest. "I don't hate him."

Ben could only stand there and hold him tight, hurting for him. "He knows that, kid. It's okay. He knows."

NTNTNTNTNT

_Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep..._

He was floating. It was a nice kind of floating, sort of like flying only without having to or flap your arms or steer or think or anything. On clouds, but without being cold or oxygen-deprived. It would've been really_, really _nice if it weren't for that stupid beeping. He thought lazily about what it could be. Then he realized. _Alarm clock. _Doi. He was late. Again. Uncle Samuel had always scolded him for his "terminal tardiness." Oh, well. He didn't have to tell the man _everything. _Besides, even if the guy asked, he was sure if he just explained that he had been floating, the man would understand. Maybe he could even take Uncle Samuel floating with him some time. He'd pobably like it. In a cruel moment of lucidity, he realized that no, Uncle Samuel couldn't come. Why not? _He's dead. _The realization struck hard, and suddenly, he wasn't floating anymore. He was still. His mind poked at the backs of his eyes. There was something else he had to remember, too. Something very important. He needed to wake up. He knew if he woke up, he'd remember_. Open your eyes_.

Heavy lids slowly raised above pale blue eyes, and they moved slowly about the room, taking in the plain white walls and the ever beeping heart monitor. They landed on the figure of his brother, and the memories came rushing back along with all that guilt. "Riley," he said softly, voice rough, throat painfully scratchy. "I'm so sorry."

His little brother was in a chair by his bed, head resting next to him on the mattress. Kid was sleeping hard. He was so there and so real and so...not eleven. Rick's throat suddenly constricted, and a tear threatened seriously to escape his eyes. He reached up and gently ruffled the soft dark hair.

"I wouldn't wake him if I were you," a soft voice said near the doorway. Rick looked up to see Riley's friend...Ben standing there. "That's the first time I've seen him shut his eyes more than ten minutes in the last five days."

"Wasn't going to wake him," Rick fairly croaked. A straw was suddenly at his lips, and he sipped carefully, cool water soothing his aching throat.

As he sipped, Ben answered the unasked questions. "You had surgery. They removed the bullet. It was touch and go for a while, but you're going to be fine. Probably won't be running any marathons for a while yet, but you'll be fine. They had to intubate you, hence the rough throat, so you've been in a medically induced coma. Out for five days. They took you off the respirator yesterday. We've just basically been waiting for you to wake up."

Rick nodded, digesting the information. "Cool scar?"

"One of the most impressive I've seen."

"Sweet." Rick's eyes settled once again on the sleeping form of his brother, noticing the oversize leather coat that obviously wasn't Riley's snugged around the kid's shoulders. "How he doing?"

"I think how he's doing is very directly related to how you're doing right now. Now that he'll be able to see that you're okay, I think he's going to be fine."

"You...you take care of him, don't you?" It almost wasn't a question.

Ben tilted his head at the question. Then he shrugged. "I try. Doesn't always work."

"He trusts you."

"I earned it."

There was no animosity in the words. No accusation whatsoever. But Rick's guilty, medicated mind put it there, anyway. "I never wanted to hurt him. I...I just wanted him to grow up okay. After Samuel pulled me out, there was no way I could get to him or let him get to me without screwing everything up, getting somebody killed. I didn't want to leave him there. You have to believe me."

"I believe you. Calm down before you pull something."

The easy, even voice of the near-stranger did wonders to calm him. Rick settled, took a deep breath. "I can see why he likes you. He'd write about you all the time, you know. In his letters to Samuel. You and Abi and your dad. You're his hero."

Ben's lips quirked into a smile. "So are you. You do realize that, right?"

"I don't feel completely heroic right now."

Ben gave a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "You nearly lost your life trying to save his. What else is there?"

Rick gradually returned the smile, and any tension in the room melted. "He forgives me?"

"He never blamed you. The moment he opens his eyes, you're going to get a flood of sorries. You ready for that?"

"As long as he's breathing, I'm ready for whatever he can dish out."

"Great. There is one thing that's been bugging me, though. And I feel safer asking you while your safely drugged up."

"What's that?"

"Why did you knock me out?"

Rick gave a sheepish smile. "I was trying to get you out of the way before you really got hurt. I was hoping you'd take the hint."

"I was always a bit slow on the uptake."

"Should've known you'd never walk."

"I did tell you that, you know."

"You did," Rick chuckled softly at the look onthe older man's face. "Sorry." His eyelids felt suddenly heavy, and he yawned. "What time is it?"

Ben glanced at his watch. "10:30 p.m."

Rick frowned. "They let visitors stay this late?"

"No, actually. But, "he gestured toward the obliviously sleeping Riley, "he can be very persuasive."

Grinning, Rick asked, "Throw a fit, did he?"

"Tried. Even turned on the eyes. The head nurse is ice, though. Then he pulled out his checkbook. They'll be naming the new wing after him."

Rick laughed. "Dream come true." He looked down at his brother, still kind of amazed the kid was there. He carefully brushed Riley's hair back off his forehead. "I love this kid," he mumbled quietly before slipping back into slumber.

Ben watched them quietly for a moment before tucking the edge of the coat closer around his young friend and settling into his own chair for the night. "Join the club."

NTNTNTNTNT

* * *

A/N: One more chapter, methinks. There are two a few loose ends that need to be tied up. And if you were worried, there will be much more Riley in the next chap. How sad it was to write a scene without his lovely sarcastic mouth. :) 


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Finally! Gasp! This chappie took forever to write! The fact that I had no time to write probably didn't help matters much. But anyways, so sorry to those of you who wrote beautifully awesome reviews and didn't get replies. Crazy. Ness. But I figured you'd want another chapter before you'd want me hurling gratefulness at your feet, so while I'm still mentally hurling (wait, that sounds gross), here's the next chapter. I'll so try to reply to you guys this time!

* * *

NTNTNTNTNTNTNT 

_Footsteps sounded behind him. He didn't know who it was or what they wanted, but somehow he knew if he stuck around to find out, he'd be dead. So he ran, pushing rubbery legs to a dead sprint, pulse pounding, lungs convulsing, struggling to bring oxygen to weakening muscles. He couldn't see anything. Everything was dark, no lights, the cursed footsteps closing in on him the only sound reaching his straining ears. Suddenly he was falling. He could feel his mouth open, feel his vocal cords tightening, but still the only sound was the footsteps. He was on the ground. And a light lit up one thing. Rick. He was being hit over and over again by monsters, body mostly concealed by the gang of giants circled around him. _

_"Help him, Riley." He looked up. It was Ben. Just staring at him. "Help him.__ Why won't you help him?"_

_Riley was trying. But he couldn't move. Couldn't get there. Tried to scream. His voice still wouldn't work. Then the monsters were gone and Riley was standing next to his brother's body. Only there were no bruises. Only the hole in his abdomen, crimson blood in stark contrast with a ghostly white face. _

_"Rick." He'd meant to shout it, but it came out a whisper. _

_Riley turned back to Ben. "He's dead, Riley." Only it wasn't Ben anymore. It was Uncle Samuel. "You killed him. Like you killed me." _

_"No!" Suddenly his voice was back._

_"Look at your hand." Riley looked down. His hand held the pistol. "Why did you do it, Riley?"_

_"No! No! Rick! I'm sorry!"_

_Lifeless eyes slid open. "Riley."_

Riley bolted awake with a shout, jerking himself up so quickly the chair he'd been sitting in fell backwards. Riley was backing away, eyes darting around to find something solid to ground him. They finally landed on his brother, mind begging him to confirm that Rick was still there, still alive, still breathing. What he saw made his legs nearly go out, and he had to reach out and grab onto the nearby windowsill to steady himself. Rick's eyes were open.

"Hey, Riley, calm down. You're okay. You're safe." Open and full of concern and caring that he really didn't deserve.

"Rick! I...you're awake. Are you..."

"I'm fine. Promise. Come here."

Riley could only shake his head. "I...I should call somebody. A nurse or...someone. Where's Ben? Ben'll know..."

"Hey. Take it easy. A doctor was already in here. Everything's as it should be. Ben stepped out to get something to eat."

Riley swallowed. "Oh." He didn't move.

"That sounded like a crappy dream."

He jumped. "What? Oh. Was I talking? Um, I probably really should get someone. You probably need something. I'll...get it." He backed his way to the door.

"I need something." The words froze Riley in his tracks.

"What? What is it?" His voice came out almost panicked.Rick motioned him over. Riley stepped warily up to the bed, looking painfully conscious of the monitors and IV, his composure slipping a little. "What do you need?" he whispered. Without a word, Rick reached out and snagged his wrist, tugging him slowly closer. "Wh-what are you doing?" Riley asked nervously.

"Shh. Come here. I just...I need this for a minute."

Riley stopped himself from moving any closer, shaking his head. "I might hurt you or pull something out or...or mess something up."

"You're not going to mess anything up. You never have. We're fine, kid. You and me, we're okay. Right?"

Throat tightening, Riley could only nod as he was pulled into a hug. Riley stiffened, barely touching Rick, even as his older brother's arms completely encircled him. Riley's breathing quickened as he struggled to hold his emotions inside. It would be way too easy for it all to come spilling out now. Way too easy, and way too dangerous. Rick said they were okay. Riley really wanted that to last as long as it possibly could, and if he let all his pent up feelings just come all tumbling out now, Rick would realize a lot quicker how pathetic he was. The longer Rick didn't know how pathetic he was, the longer he'd probably stick around.

Rick squeezed him gently. "Hey. You all right, little brother?"

Riley clamped his eyes shut. That so wasn't fair. He couldn't just waltz in here and be all big bother exactly like Riley had wanted since he was eleven. _Not the time, Riley. He's hurt and medicated and..._

"What's wrong?"

And no amount of logic or fear had any chance of defeating that tone from his big brother. "I'm sorry, Rick. I'm so sorry. I don't hate you. I really, really don't hate you. I was mad, and I didn't know what was going on, and I thought...ugh, I _believed _him, Rick! The stuff he said about you, and then when Ben was hit...But why would I believe _Deacon? _And I'm sorry about you and Uncle Samuel and Deacon and Mom, and finding the treasure and getting Uncle Samuel killed and getting you shot. And I'm just so so sorry." Riley was mortified as his voice broke over the rushed whispers. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen. I didn't want..."

"Hey, hey. Buddy, come on. None of that was your fault."

"Yes, it was," Riley insisted. "It all was. Deacon said so. Uncle Samuel died protecting me. And you...you came way too close. You got shot, Rick!"

"I'm fine. Listen to me, Riley. Yeah, this whole thing sucks. I would do anything to be able to go back and change how things happened. I would've given anything to be able to be there for you growing up. But I couldn't. I left you alone. With Mom. Knowing every moment what you were living through, and not being able to do a thing to stop it. Knowing you were eleven and left with no choice but to take care of a woman who was mostly too high to care what happened to you, and knowing you'd still take care of her no matter what she did." The pain in his voice was all too obvious. "And yeah, I _really _blamed myself for that."

Riley shook his head. "That wasn't..."

"My fault. I know. I get that now. It was Deacon's. Just like everything else. If I don't get to blame me for leaving you behind, you definitely don't get to blame you for all the crap you couldn't control. Right?"

Riley took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. At the same time, both brothers decided, "I hate that guy."

A small smile touched Riley's lips as Rick let out half a laugh. Riley raised his head to look at his brother. "I really am sorry, though."

"I believe you," he said, unintentionally echoing Ben's words from earlier. "I'm sorry, too. But we're both going to have to get over feeling guilty. You mad at me?"

"No."

"Am I mad at you?"

"N...o?"

"Right. So know what we do now?"

"No."

Rick Poole smiled as he felt his brother relax slightly. "Whatever the heck we want. It's over, Riley. It's all over. I don't have to hide; you don't have to run. It's done, and we came out okay."

As Riley relaxed, still conscious of the stitches on Rick's right side. His head wound up close enough to Rick's heart for him to hear it beating. Strong and steady. Every lub with its dup. He grinned, feeling a lot of the weight that had settled around his chest start to loosen up. "We did, didn't we? Hm. Weird for us."

"Says the man who stumbled his way onto the greatest treasure in the history of mankind."

"That was mostly Ben."

"Daylight Savings Time."

"Yeah, that was _so _me."

"Ben told me. Plus I read all your Uncle Samuel letters. I, ah, wrote some of them, too."

"Seriously? So some of the letters that were from him were really from you?"

"Yeah. That's probably weird. Writing letters posing as a sixty-nine year old man."

"Psh, that's nothing. You know that Ben Franklin wrote letters to his brother's newspaper posing as a middle-aged widow? When he was like fifteen. How awkward is that?"

Rick shot him a funny look. "And you know this because?"

Riley shrugged. "Because Ben Franklin Gates is Indiana Jones U.S. history style, and he lectures _all_ the time."

"I do not lecture _all _the time," Ben protested as he entered the room, carrying a couple bags of takeout.

Riley stood and shot him a look. "At your wedding during your vows, you likened you and Abi's relationship to the American Revolution."

"It was a metaphor, and it was deep. Abigail liked it."

"Abigail thought it was romantic when you dropped her for a piece of paper." Arms were crossed, smirk firmly in place.

Before Ben could get really indignant about the Declaration of Independence being referred to as "a piece of paper," Rick interrupted. "So they tell you when I can get out of here or what?"

With a glare at the youngest Poole, Ben answered Rick's question. "Doctor said probably three or four more days before you're released with obvious restrictions."

"No marathons, huh?"

"Not for at least thirty minutes after you eat. Or something like that," Ben replied with a grin, setting the bags down on the bedside table. He pointed at Riley. "You. In the hall. Now."

Riley blinked and shot a nervous look toward his brother. Rick shrugged, offering absolutely no help whatsoever. "Sounds like you're in trouble to me."

With a thankless smirk in Rick's direction, Riley followed Ben out into the hall. As soon as they were out of earshot from Rick, Ben turned around to face him. Riley tried to preempt him. "Look, I was just kidding about the Declaration thing. Foundation of our government, I get it..." He was cut off as Ben grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pressed him up against the wall. "Whoa, Ben, seriously, I was kidding!"

"Good," the older man's serious face split into a grin. "So was I." He patted the younger man's face and released him. "Just wanted to see that look."

Riley let out an indignant huff. "Geeze. Give a guy a heart attack. What are we doing out here?"

"You and Rick seem to be okay. You guys talk?"

Riley gave a soft smile. "Yeah. I called him a dumb head, and he gave me a noogie. You know. Brother stuff. We're pretty much back to normal."

Ben smirked. "Good. 'Cause you know he gets out of here in a few days, and I figured it would probably be better for him to recover somewhere that...wasn't here. Away from all this, you know?"

"I was thinking the same thing. And I know I have responsibilities and stuff with you and Abi and all the museums and the historical societies and stuff about the treasure, but Ben, I have to make sure he's going to be okay. I mean, I just got him shot. I figure I'll take him to the coast, maybe find a condo or something I can rent for awhile. That way he can recover, and I can make sure he recovers right, and he won't have to think about any of this stuff. I'm sorry. I know I'm kinda bailing out on you, but if you have any presentations or anything you need, you can e-mail them to me, and I can get them done for you."

Ben was nodding. "So you have this all figured out, then?"

Riley nodded uncomfortably. "And...I mean, if you or Abi want to take a vacation or something, maybe your dad wants to get away...um, I can get a place with plenty of room. So...while we don't exactly have a fleet of private jets," he sent a pointed look toward the older man who didn't even bother rolling his eyes, "first class is almost as good. If you've got the time or something. I wouldn't...I mean, Rick likes you, and we'd probably drive each other crazy just us all the time. So, if you want..."

"Come visit you?" Ben supplied helpfully, when it appeared Riley might never actually get around to saying it.

Riley nodded gratefully. "If you want."

"I don't think that'll work out. Schedule conflicts, you know."

The younger man's face fell. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to rid his face of the obvious disappointment. "Oh. Yeah. I get it. Well, the offer's on the table for whenever. I don't know how long he'll be..."

"I have a better idea, though."

"What?"

"Why don't you guys just come home?"

Riley's eyebrows creased, before blue eyes widened. "You mean...Ben, it's your house. I couldn't..."

"You live there. Your house."

"But this is a family thing, and he's my brother, and things are kind of screwed up..."

"I know. Which is why you should come home. We'll deal with this family thing as a family."

Riley didn't know what to say. They were a family, weren't they? Ben had been the big brother he needed through everything. Abi was his perfect big sister. Patrick was the father he'd never had. He nodded slowly. "Okay," Riley said softly. "Let's go home."

"Good, it's settled. Now come on. I'm starving."

"What'd you get?"

"Chinese."

NTNTNTNTNTNTNT

Abigail Gates sat stirring a cup of tea, feet tucked up under her as she leaned back into the cushions of her favorite over-stuffed chair, enjoying the silence. Her husband walked in and slowly lowered himself onto the sofa beside her chair, stretching out long legs and heaving a contented sigh, looking altogether pleased with himself. It had been a week since Rick Poole had moved into the guest room just down the hall, and so far the young man had proved the worst patient imaginable, second only to his younger brother who had suddenly turned more mother hen than he could ever accuse Ben of being.

"Rick asleep?" Abi asked.

Ben grinned. "When I left, Riley was all but fluffing his pillows while simultaneously worrying about Rick's meds, his appetite, his sleep, and whether or not the incision was healing the way it was supposed to, and 'should we elevate his feet?' or 'maybe his legs.' To which Rick graciously replied that Riley was being a 'Nurse Nazi' and clocked him with a pillow."

Abi giggled, knowing the exact look that would be on Riley's face. One of complete, hilarious, horrified insult. "What did Riley do?"

"He, ah, promised to seriously maim him once he was recovered. I think he mentioned something about having a really cool computer and for Rick to watch out for some serious identity theft."

"Aha," she laughed. "Sounds like our Riley." She reached out and took his hand, rubbing her thumb over the back. He smiled at her. "You know, you look happy."

"I am happy," he said simply.

"Are treasure hunters supposed to be happy and content? Shouldn't you be obsessing over some new treasure?" Her tone was lightly teasing.

"Oh, I'm sure my treasure hunting days are far from over. But now, right now..." He pulled her up from the chair by the hand he held and guided her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. "Right now I'm pretty happy being a treasure protector." His real treasure was right there in his house. And he felt honored by his role as protector.

Abigail leaned her head back on his shoulder, smiling softly. "You must be tired. You're never this introspective when you're awake."

He laughed and kissed the side of her head. "You...are probably right. How about you. You happy, Mrs. Gates?"

"Very happy, Mr. Gates. Rick is a sweet man. Riley adores him."

"Mmhm. He's a good guy. They're way too alike, those two. Probably going to drive us crazy."

"If that idea really bothered you, you wouldn't have gone off and adopted another Poole," Abi said lightly. She turned and kissed him on the lips. "I'm going to bed. You coming?"

"I'll be up in a minute."

She stood and nodded. "Okay."

He sat for a while after she'd gone up, listening to the quiet of the historic mansion, the little creaks and cracks, the unique life of the place. He smiled and levered himself out of the chair. As he headed for the stairs, he thought he heard something in the kitchen. He followed the sound and stopped in the entryway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall, watching a jammy-clad Riley standing on a chair unscrewing the vent on the wall above the cabinets. Intrigued, he watched as the younger man, reached into the vent and pulled out...a bag of frosted animal crackers...with sprinkles.

"You know that's how people end up with mice."

Riley jumped, nearly falling off the chair. He tried to cover a sheepish look with one of indignation. "Okay. Didn't realize I was living with a ninja. Next time you sneak up behind me, you mind giving me a little warning first?"

"What are you doing?"

"Late night snack." Ben kept giving him the same, you-know-what-I'm-asking look, until the younger man caved into giving him a better answer. "Abi kept stealing 'em. What was I supposed to do?"

Ben smirked and reached into the bag, seizing one of the frosting-covered treats and popping it into his mouth. He thought about telling his friend that it wasn't Abi that had been stealing the animal crackers. It was Ben. But now that he knew where the kid was hiding them, he saw no particular reason to reveal his newly-found secret addiction. Riley had been right about those things. Sweet ambrosia.

"You're not going to tell her where I'm keeping them, are you?"

Ben held up his hand. "Scout's honor. Not a word."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Riley hopped down from atop the chair, leaning against the counter. "Thanks. You going to bed?"

"In a bit. How you doing?"

"Fine. You?"

"Fine." There was an uncharacteristic moment of awkward silence. The call had come that day. Riley had said he'd expected it; that it was no big deal. The stricken look on his face said he was lying. His mother. Deacon's funeral had been that afternoon. The fact that the man was a murderer, that in that folder there were pictures of Deacon at a drug deal that had gone notoriously wrong and directions to a gunsafe in Deacon's home that would contain the murder weapon, that he had torn their family apart, those were facts that hadn't quite permeated her mind. The fact that he was dead and she no longer had access to the "medicine" her body craved, that was what her mind zeroed in on. Ben didn't know exactly what words were spoken. Riley wouldn't say, had insisted Ben not mention it to Rick or Abi. But trembling hands and a mumbled excuse as he all but fled out the door were more than enough to prove that woman had wounded him deeply. He remembered that day at the funeral, when she had hit him. That made Ben _really_ mad.

"Riley..."

"Ben. I'm okay. Everything's okay. I have animal crackers. Things can't be not okay with animal crackers. They're so...happy."

"Your mother was..."

"And everything has to be okay because you're...here. And you don't let things be not okay. Ever. It's part of your...youness."

Ben crinkled his brow as Riley studiously stuffed his mouth with the animal crackers, not looking at him. "That so?"

"Yeah. And sometimes it's really annoying."

Ben felt himself shaking his head and smiling at the image Riley presented, cheeks full of cookies, pretending to study the clown on the circus-themed bag because heaven forbid he should look at his friend and share something he was feeling. "Well, sorry for the inconvenience."

Blue eyes finally raised to meet brown. "Thank you, you know. For everything. Not letting things not be okay. And...being there when things really weren't okay. You...I don't know...You've been my family for a long time. Even though I didn't really get it 'til this last week."

"You were out of practice."

"Psh, yeah. I know. But seriously. Thanks."

"Anytime, kid."

There was a moment of silence that was way more comfortable than awkward, and then Riley pushed off the counter. "Well, I'm going to bed. See you in the morning. I vote you make waffles."

"We'll see. Hey," he said as Riley turned left toward Rick's room instead of right toward the stairs. "You know he's getting more mobile every day."

"I know."

"And you said he's slept all through the night these past three nights." The first few, Rick had awakened in the night in serious need of his pain meds.

"Yep."

"So wouldn't you be more comfortable in your bed instead of on the floor in his room tonight?"

Riley simply shook his head. "If it were me, where would you sleep?"

Ben felt his chest swell with pride at the question, knowing there had to be ridiculously goofy smile growing on his face and not really caring. A week ago, Ben knew, Riley wouldn't have thought to ask that question. And if he had, the younger man would've automatically assumed Ben couldn't or, more accurately, _shouldn't _be bothered with him. But sometime in the last several days, the kid had finally figured it out. This was his home. This was his family. "Make sure you grab an extra blanket."

Riley smiled. A real, genuine, beautiful smile. "Yeah. Night."

"Good night." He realized Riley was walking away with the bag of animal crackers. "Hey, aren't you going to...put those back? In the vent?"

With a way too snarky look on his face, Riley said innocently, "Ben, that's how people get mice."

* * *

A/N: Mmkay, was that satisfying enough? I think I tied everything up, but if I missed something really obvious, please tell me. Wow. And thanks all of you who stuck with me through this whole darn thing. I really hated this sucker sometimes, but all your encouragement kept bringing me back to it and wrestling into submission...which I think might be a pun if you look hard enough. Anyway, happy Thanksgiving to all of you! Even if I am a day late. ;)

Blessings!


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